Saltwater for Blood
by Countess Verona Dracula
Summary: [sequel to SaltwaterforTears] Years after their affair, Stephen and Cora meet again, only to find that the more unpleasant aspects of their past have come to haunt them. And this time so much more hangs in the balance... [slight POTC crossover] [StephenOC
1. A Noteworthy Discovery

A/N- I had this idea about halfway through _Saltwater for Tears_ and it just wouldn't let go. So, after receiving such enthusiastic support for its predecessor, I proceeded with all due haste to write this one. After all, there wasn't a moment to be lost. I couldn't leave Stephen and Cora hanging that way! So, here it goes! 

This is a sequel to my other fanfiction, _Saltwater for Tears_. If you haven't read that, this probably won't make much sense. Both are sequels to the POTC quintet I wrote with a friend (starting with _the Mystery of Moonlight_), but they have enough information from that to stand alone.

This is slightly AU for both POTC (particularly _Dead Man's Chest_) and _Master and Commander _(particularly the wonderful books by Patrick O'Brian). I'm doing an odd combination of bookverse and movieverse, so I kind of straddle both canons. Sorry for any confusion!

_Dedicated to everyone who cried at the end of the first one (especially **silverwolf of the night**, who cried for the ship.)  
----------------------_  
Chapter One  
A Noteworthy Discovery  
_in which ghosts are raised_

_June 20, 1812_

Stephen Maturin stared at the wide crystal expanse of the Caribbean sea, specifically at the place where a ship was meant to be. He was too exhausted by their frantic run to the docks to be as unhappy as Jack Aubrey, his particular friend, who had just finished reading the note left to them with their sea chests.

"It's the damnedest thing, Stephen, but it appears that Tom has gone and left without us. He received urgent orders to go off in search of some privateer in these waters and since we were off chasing your bird we just missed him. He couldn't wait for us. The note says he'll be back to retrieve us in no less than two weeks, unless they can capture the privateer before then."

Jack was clearly devastated; land was bad enough, but an island this small could possibly drive him mad. Port Royal had certainly seen better days. It was a dingy, sleepy town now, one so small they would likely know all of it and its every inhabitant before their first week was up.

Stephen was neither disappointed nor elated at this turn of events. All throughout their journey with Tom Pullings on his post-ship the HMS _Renown_ as honored guests he'd felt a strange sort of discontent, a feeling so deep he doubted having solid land beneath his feet would eradicate it. It was the feeling that caused animals to run for high ground. It was the feeling that said something was coming, and all he could do was wait for the storm to break.

"Don't be distressed, joy," He said presently. "Rest will certainly do us no harm. In fact I rather think we need it. The first thing to do is find somewhere to stay."

They were just turning away from the quay when a small boy, no older than eight, came running to them. He carried with him a large basket overflowing with different types of plants and shells.

"Are you part of the Navy, sir?" He asked Jack without a preamble. He spoke with faint traces of an English accent, but his skin was tanned and freckled by many hours of sun.

"I am a Captain, lad."

"Where's your ship?"

"It seems to have left us."

"Oh," He looked crestfallen. "And who are you?" He cocked his head at Stephen, the sunlight catching his eyes. They were light in color, perhaps grey or blue. It was difficult to say.

"I am a doctor on this captain's ship. My name is Stephen Maturin." He glanced at Jack, prompting him.

"Jack Aubrey."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The boy put a knuckle to his forehead in a surprisingly good salute. "My name is Dominic."

"If your ship left you, do you have a place to stay?" The boy asked. The sunlight played through his hair, which was a dark brown. He wore it long, and it was softly curled.

"No, not yet. We are about to set out in search of one."

"The inns here aren't very nice. Not for a captain." He said, wrinkling his nose in thought. Then his expression brightened. "I know, you can stay with me! Momma won't mind, I'm sure of it. Come with me!"

Without waiting for a response, the boy darted off. Bewildered, Jack and Stephen followed.

Port Royal was a very small town, but it was difficult to navigate because it had been built along no plan, buildings springing up wherever there was room or need. The boy clearly knew where he was going, so they had to stick close to him. He weaved through crowds that Jack and Stephen had to shoulder through, wheezing after long months at sea with no room to stretch their legs.

Dominic would pause for them to catch their breath every so often, and at one point he stopped beside a street that ended in the sea and pointed up to a large mansion on the hill.

"The governor used to live there, but he died a long time ago. He was my great-great-grandfather, and now my great-grandparents live up there."

"That's not where we're going, is it?" Jack muttered, estimating the time it would take them to get up that hill.

"I hope not. You'll bring on an apoplexy this way, Jack."

"I know, I know. Do let the subject lie, Stephen."

Dominic waited another moment or so, watching the sea heave nearby, then started off at a slower pace.

"I live just down here."

The street they walked down was rather quiet, and many of the buildings appeared abandoned, skeletons of what they once were. They were very old buildings. Oddly, many were marked by sulfur and smoke, and Jack spied a hole that would fit a large round shot exactly. There was a fort on the hill, and he remembered Port Royal as being a Navy stronghold in times past.

"Was this town ever besieged, lad? Do you know?"

"Oh, yes," Dominic replied. "By the _Black Pearl_, a long time ago."

Stephen felt a small icicle puncture his gut, although he could no accurately place where he'd heard the ship named before.

"Here is where I live." Dominic paused in front of an old two story building and then headed inside. Jack hit his head against the sign above the door, and walked in swearing. The sign had born a hammer and anvil and said _Turner and Sons Blacksmith_ in old script.

"Is your mother at home? Your father?" Jack asked.

"Momma will return soon, but I don't have a father." He was already halfway up the stairs.

The first story had nothing but a dirt floor and a few old blacksmith's tools. It was tidy and neat, but had that empty feeling of a room whose purpose was past and was no longer lived in. It was a dead room.

The second story was light and airy, clean and simple, and full of life. The windows had been left open and a sea breeze stirred the curtains. A small table with a vase of flowers greeted them, and Dominic left his basket there.

"This room is mine," He said with proprietary pride, although the small room boasted nothing more than a bed, an old sea chest and a desk. The desk was covered with papers and different rocks and shells, even a few pieces of coral.

"Have you an interest in the study of nature?" Stephen asked.

"Yes sir, but my mother won't let me bring animals home to study. Not since I let the snake I found out of its cage so I could observe it and it crawled into her bed." He grinned cheekily. "She wasn't very happy about that."

"I'd imagine not." Stephen found himself smiling back. "I am a naturalist mysel-"

"I love the sea the most, though. My mother says it's in my blood." He turned to Jack. "I want to join the Navy, but she won't let me yet. She doesn't have the money for a commission right now, and she said she won't have any son of hers serving the Crown as anything less than an officer. I'm going to be a captain someday." He puffed up a bit at this. "Let me show you where you can stay. We have lots of extra room for when our friends come."

Dominic was off again before Stephen could try and pinpoint where the feeling he felt on hearing Dominic speak came from. They followed dutifully as he showed them into a large airy room at the very back of the house with a breathtaking view of the harbor. Two beds stood in opposite corners and a washstand sat between them. A simple silver bowl sat there, and beside it a pink piece of coral. On the other side of it was a small glass bottle with a model ship inside. Jack went over and picked it up, Stephen following.

"I think we should wait here until his mother comes home, and then ask her if it is quite proper for us to stay here. It would certainly be better than some rundown inn, I doubt there's a proper hotel in this place." He said in a low voice.

Jack grunted in assent and continued to turn the glass bottle end over end, observing every point of the ship. Dominic had disappeared, so Stephen sat on the bed and looked out at the sea. It was a restless shade of azure, thrashing against the shore and making all the ships in the harbor dance, tugging at their mooring lines with the ache to be free.

"Stephen," Jack began to say something, but at that moment they heard footsteps on the stairs down the hall.

"Momma!" Dominic cried.

"Hello, love. Mm, you smell of the sea. Did you go down to the harbor to collect your shells?"

"Yes, Momma, I have something to show you. I brought something else back. A surprise."

"Dominic Turner if you've brought another snake into this house-"

"No, Momma, it's a better surprise than that."

Stephen felt certain his heart had stopped. His hand was clenched on the windowsill. He knew that voice.

Dominic _Turner_?

"Stephen-" Jack began again. There were footsteps- they were coming closer. "Stephen-"

Stephen finally looked to Jack, who had moved to stand right beside him. Jack handed him the glass bottle with the ship inside and pointed to its stern. Even without his glasses Stephen could read the name.

_The Lone Star Running_

The door creaked open. Like one in a dream- or a nightmare -Stephen stood and met the eyes of the woman standing in the door. Dominic stood at her side, clutching her hand and looking up at her with the adoration of a child who sees in his mother his whole world.

"See, Momma? I told you it was a better surprise than a snake!"

The woman was Cora.

---------------------------

A/N-- Dun dun dun! Okay, so maybe it was a bit obvious! But still, I had fun with that cliffie so I made it a short chapter. The next will be longer and it will feature some old POTC faves, so look out for that... reviews keep me alive!


	2. Discourse and Dinner

A/N-- Here's the second chapter! I'm excited for this one, because like I said we get to see some old friends... . Read to find out who! 

-----------------------------------

Chapter Two  
Discourse and Dinner  
_in which there are many awkward moments_

The three adults in the house were a tableau for a moment, a moment that could've lasted for much longer if there hadn't been a child in their midst.

"I found them at the harbor, Momma. That one's a captain and that one's a doctor. Their ship abandoned them. Can they stay with us?"

"You've always had a knack for picking up strays." Cora murmured like one in a daze. She shook her head quickly and fixed an indulgent smile on her face as she knelt to see eye to eye with her son. "Dom, darling, I want you to do something for me. Run to Grandma and Grandpa Turner's house and tell them we'll be having dinner with them after all. Tell them we might be bringing guests along."

"Grandma and Grandpa Turner's house- we'll be having dinner and bringing guests to eat." ("To eat _with_ us, Dom, I dare say we won't be eating _them_.") He nodded and then turned to face Jack and Stephen, smiling. "I'll be back soon."

Cora had time to only kiss his forehead before he darted away. They were all conscious of his footsteps on the stairs and the slam of the door when he left, but even once they knew for certain that he was gone none of them could speak.

Cora was the first to move. She turned and walked out of the room. Jack and Stephen followed her back into the first room of the second story, where Dominic had left his basket. A cabinet stood nearby and Cora fished a key out of the purse at her waist. She opened it and shuffled things around, ultimately producing an old bottle filled with amber liquid- rum. She tilted her head back and took a deep drink from its mouth.

Stephen sat at the table and found himself staring at her. Seven years had washed over her like waves on the shore but she didn't appear to have changed much. Her jaw was firmer, her cheeks less full, showing that the last vestige of childhood had bled away. Her eyes were still the same- that extraordinary soft grey-blue. She was wearing a dress, and it took Stephen back the moment he realized it. He had never seen her in a dress before.

"Cora-" He began, the word feeling strangely foreign on her tongue. It was seven years since he'd said that name and expected to hear an answer.

"Before you ask, he's yours. There's been no one else." She gave him a strangely bitter smile and held out the bottle. "Care for a drink? I have a feeling we'll need one."

Stephen shook his head, but Jack reached across the table.

"I catch your drift precisely, Miss Turner, a most noble sentiment indeed."

Jack took a drink from the bottle and then stood there with it in his hand, looking like he felt out of place. When Cora sat at the table across from Stephen and it became apparent that this wasn't about to get any easier with him there, he slipped away and mumbled something about leaving their sea chests by the harbor. The door beneath them slammed shut, and they were alone.

_A son. My son._ Stephen's mind stoutly refused to grasp the concept. He and Cora were lovers for a handful of days seven years before, and while every moment he spent with her in his arms had loomed in his mind since the day they parted it was terrifying to see such tangible evidence of it.

He reached for the bottle Jack left behind and took a drink, deciding he needed it after all. Wordlessly, he passed it back to Cora. She didn't drink from it, running one finger in an endless circle around the bottle's rim instead.

"His name is Dominic Jack Turner." She said. "I know it sounds awkward, but I thought the name Jack was special to both of us. We've both known rather extraordinary Captains bearing the name Jack."

Stephen didn't even nod in response. He searched her endlessly for some clue as to how she was feeling at the sight of him, but she kept her face down.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had no idea where you were."

"Did you try to discover it? Ever?"

"...no."

"You thought the birth of my child would mean nothing to me?" He couldn't keep the venom out of his voice.

"Don't say it like that," She snapped back. "I was in England by the time I realized I was with child. I had no money and no relatives. The only thing I could do was barter a passage back here to Port Royal and beg my grandparents for help. I had no idea what else to do, I was so terrified. And..." She gave a helpless sigh. "You were there, Stephen. You saw what happened to me aboard the _Surprise_. I told you why we couldn't be together. I was afraid that if I told you I was carrying your child it would force us into something both of us weren't ready for."

"Marriage."

"...yes."

"Don't make the assumption that both of us weren't ready." Stephen said quietly.

For the first time since Jack left the room, Cora met his eyes. Hers were filled with disbelief and a quantity of confusion. She dropped them before he could speak again.

"I told you we'd meet again." Her voice was filled, oddly, with regret.

"I had no doubt that we would," Stephen replied. "The world has an endless capacity for cruelty."

Cora poured another drink down her throat, stopped the bottle and shoved it back into the cabinet.

Neither of them could think of what to say. The moment of silent recriminations and unspoken guilt would've gone on forever if Dominic hadn't burst back into the room.

"Grandma and Grandpa told me to tell you that we should come over for dinner as soon as we can and we can bring any guests we want as long as they're not," He paused to take a breath and to summon the most impressive word of his message properly. "Fugitives."

Cora laughed and drew him onto her lap. "A funny condition, that. They've been fugitives before. Do you even know what a fugitive is, Dom?"

"No. Do you want to see what I found today?" Dominic squirmed out of his mother's embrace to begin arranging his collection on the table.

"Dominic is quite the naturalist, Doctor Maturin. Like yourself." Cora said to Stephen, with a bright fake smile on her face. It said what the words didn't: _do not tell him._

"You're a naturalist, Doctor?"

"Yes, I am." Stephen felt something bite at his heart. Dominic had dismissed him earlier when he tried to tell him, enamored of Jack in his exalted position as captain.

"That must be very interesting. Is it exciting to work on a ship?"

_He has just enough of me in him to torment me._

"It provides me with many opportunities to further my study of the natural world, although it is somewhat loud and incommodious and I must spend many months at sea with hardly a bird to break the monotony."

Dominic's face was screwed up in concentration as he tried to decipher some of the more difficult words in the sentence, and before he accomplished this a red faced Jack came back up the stairs, lugging both sea chests along with him.

"I intend to do more heavy lifting about the ship from now on," He wheezed as he sat down, looking in vain for the bottle of rum. "For my performance here has been most humiliating."

"We'll wait for you to catch your breath. Would care for another drink? We are to dine at my grandparents' house this night." Cora stood and went back to the cabinet to retrieve the bottle of rum.

"They're my grandparents too," Dominic added. "But not really. I don't have real grandparents."

"No grandparents and no father," Stephen said. "I believe that is a trifle sad."

Cora slammed the bottle on the table and slid it over to Jack. She gave Stephen her coldest stare, one that turned her grey-blue eyes into chips of ice, and for a moment he saw the woman her mother had been staring at him. She shook it off, and turned with a fresh smile to her son.

"They're your great-grandparents, Dominic. Longevity runs in the family on the Turner side, so long as we don't meet an untimely end at sea. William and Elizabeth Turner are getting on in years, but they've kept themselves busy. I believe they continue to practice swordplay together every morning in their courtyard. They've always been the talk of Port Royal."

"My momma can use a sword. She taught me." Dominic boasted to Jack, who was beginning to breathe normally again.

"Then I am certain you are a most formidable opponent. You'll make a fine addition to the Navy one day."

"Don't you encourage him, Captain Aubrey. He's got four more years before you'll get your hands on him as a midshipman."

"You tell all the captains we meet that. And last year it was five more years." Dominic pouted, poking one of the spiny shells he'd left on the table.

"Yes, and next year it will be three. Have patience, please! Have you no love for your poor mother?"

"Of course I do!" He promptly stood on his chair and flung himself on her, unrestrained in his affection.

Cora held him close, laughing into his baby curls, and after a moment her eyes met Stephen's over his shoulder. They were filled with genuine sorrow. She wiped them clean again and set Dominic down.

"We should be leaving soon. Go and clean up a bit."

"I should like to wash up as well, before we leave. I'm quite shabby at the moment, a veritable scrub. By your leave, Miss Turner, I'd like to use the room you found us in to change."

"Be my guest, Captain. I have my own preparations to attend to in any case."

Jack exited. Stephen made to follow him with some mumbled inane excuse, but as he passed through the door into the hall Cora caught his arm and pulled him close against her.

His anger vanished into astonishment. The feel of her body so close to his after seven years of tortured dreams that even laudanum couldn't quell was intoxicating. She still smelled the same- of saltwater and sweat and feminine mystique -and every breath he took with her that close brought back memories of tangled limbs and whispered names.

"Please don't stay angry with me for too long, Stephen." Was all she said, in a very low voice, the same voice she used to use when they lay together in the dark. Then she released him and headed down the hall into the relative darkness.

----------------------

A few minutes later they were ready to go. Dominic had been coaxed into fresh clothes and consented to have his hair plaited and his shoes brushed off a bit. Jack had changed into his uniform and forced Stephen to search for some of his nicer clothes- although nice here is meant comparatively, since every article of clothing he owned was in some varying state of disrepair.

"Good God, man! Sophie knits you at least a dozen new sets of stockings a year and darns the rest. Haven't you kept at least one pair from holes?" Jack heaved a sigh. "I suppose there is nothing for it, you creature. Borrow mine."

Stephen was relieved to be able to smile at Jack's nagging; it had been a fixture in their friendship. At the mention of Jack's wife Sophie, he couldn't help but feel a jolt of jealousy. He had a son standing in just the next room, but no wife to show for it. He hoped fervently that Dominic hadn't been teased for a bastard or a natural child or whatever the hell it was 'polite society' called such people- children were sensitive to such things, even if they didn't quite smoke them. He knew it all too well himself.

Cora, as was her womanly right, was the last one to be ready. She'd changed her simple grey dress to a soft blue one and wore a black shawl around her shoulders. Her hair, as before, was done up in a bun against her head. Even though her trademark bandana was absent, Stephen felt as though it was trapped and ached to set it free to watch it tumble over her shoulders.

_Almost to her breasts._

Stephen shut his eyes tight against the memory, and opened them to find Cora watching him with her eyebrows drawn.

"Shall we?" She asked when the moment ended, taking Dominic's hand and leading them out of the house. Their feet no sooner touched the pavement than Dominic broke away from her and ran ahead. Cora watched him go with a resigned shake of her head, and turned to the two men instead.

"So, what is this Dominic tells me about a ship abandoning you? You are still a captain, aren't you... Captain?" She laughed a bit at her own folly.

Jack laughed his booming laugh. "Yes, I am still a captain. I will be a captain until I am an admiral, and then I shall likely die. But, you see, we were traveling with a friend- I daresay you've never met old Tom Pullings, he'd just left us when we captured- well, that is to say-

"To come to the point, we docked here to take on provisions and Stephen here saw some manner of bird he simply had to pursue, and I followed because I promised him I'd take more interest in natural science if he'd at least try to understand nautical science, and while we were off chasing said bird Pullings received urgent orders to chase some damned privateer and he couldn't wait for us to come back. So he left us our sea chests and a note that he'd be back in no less than two weeks. Two weeks on this bloody rock! -begging your pardon of course, Miss Turner. I assume this is your home."

"This is where I happen to live." She wouldn't elaborate farther, since she had to chase Dominic away from an alley cat he was attempting to befriend with a piece of dead fish from the garbage. After that he rejoined their group and proceeded to chatter about the various other alley cats he'd seen before.

In this desultory way Dominic filled the awkward gaps in the adult conversation, bridging the seven years between them. They reached the bottom of the hill the mansion resided on, and were met there by a carriage.

"I was just about to collect you," The driver apologized. "At least you can arrive at the door in style."

"Amen to that," Jack murmured. He had been giving the hill an unfriendly eye for some time now.

"The exercise would've done you good, old friend." Stephen hinted, catching this glance.

"I informed you earlier-"

"If you grant yourself leave to criticize my stockings, Jack Aubrey, I grant myself leave to criticize your health."

At this, Cora burst out into laughter. Dominic was too occupied in examining Stephen's stockings to join in her gaiety. Jack joined her, but Stephen found that he could not.

_Seven years she lied, and here she sits before me laughing as if none of it had happened. As if that little boy sitting beside her weren't really my son._

Mere moments later the carriage stopped and the still apologizing driver helped them out. The mansion was aging, but retained a classic beauty. The two people standing in the doorway followed along the same lines.

"Cora!" The woman called, holding out her arms.

"Grandmother, grandfather." She beamed, embracing the former and giving the latter a kiss on the cheek.

"And here's my favorite lad!" The man beamed. Despite his age, his shoulders were still broad and unbent. He lifted Dominic easily. "You haven't been playing at my forge again, have you?"

"No, Grandfather."

"Good. Then I'll slip you some of my cake tonight after dinner."

"Don't just stand there, Cora," The woman admonished. "Introduce your guests!"

"May I present Jack Aubrey, a distinguished captain of His Majesty's fleet, and his surgeon, Doctor Stephen Maturin." Each man made a leg.

"Oh," The woman said slowly, softly, as if she weren't conscious of saying it. Stephen knew instantly that she knew who they were. She covered her knowledge with a smile and extended her hand.

"My name is Elizabeth Turner."

She must've been a beauty when she was younger; her hair had a soft buttery color, as if it had once been dark and surrendered its shades slowly in a bitter battle with the Caribbean sun. Her face was a web of fine lines, but it still held a healthy glow. Her eyes were a warm amber shade of brown.

"And I have the fortune of being this lady's husband." The man said. He had a strong forthright face and silver hair, and very dark brown eyes. His smile was warm and welcoming. "William Turner, at your service."

"Please, Will and Elizabeth will do." She insisted as they moved inside. "We hate pretenses. And trust you to dress up for a family dinner, Cora! That corset could've been a little tighter."

"You're lucky I put one on, Grandmother," Cora muttered, flushing. "I inherited your dislike of them."

"Yes, but you didn't inherit my figure, which means you have the breasts to actually pull one off." Elizabeth was grinning at this, but no one else seemed to enjoy her humor, least of all Cora, whose shawl was now protectively covering the items in question.

"Honestly, Elizabeth, let her alone. The occasion was formal enough. After all, she and the lad are leaving tomorrow, and there's no way of knowing when we'll see them again-"

"Yes, William." She waved him away with a practiced air, allowing him to draw her chair for her when they reached the dining room.

"Leaving?" Jack asked, bewildered. Cora turned to him, an explanation on her lips, when another figure entered.

"Uncle Matthew! I had no idea you were home!"

The man standing in the doorway looked like a younger image of Will, although his face already bore deep lines and his dark eyes were less warm. More tired, more jaded. He looked older, somehow, than the man who must've been his father.

"My ship put in today, but when I went to the forge you weren't home, so I came here."

"Honestly, Uncle," Cora said as she embraced him. "It's your house. It would've been perfectly fine for you to stay there."

"You've been there more than I have." He mumbled in response. "It'll be a little sad coming home to it after tomorrow. It'll be so quiet there."

"Forgive me, but what's happening tomorrow?" Jack asked as a servant showed him to a seat.

"Cora is leaving us at last." Elizabeth said. "She's going back home, to the island of Alameade."

Stephen turned to look at Cora, who was seated opposite him and down a ways. Her earlier comment about Port Royal made sense now.

"I've wanted to go for some time but," She nodded to Jack, who was seated directly across from her. "Begging your pardon, Captain, but the Navy's presence was simply too strong. It would've been suicide. But old Gillette finally died-"

"God rot him!" Will murmured. Elizabeth and Matthew nodded.

"-and now no one cares about our family much anymore. I've decided the time is right to go back to my ancestral home."

"How will you get there?" Jack asked.

"There's a ship called the HMS _Deliverance_ I've been using to earn money- all our wealth was in the _Running_ or back on Alameade and I haven't been able to touch my inheritance. Norrington-"  
"God rot him!" The cry was unanimous and more vehement. Jack looked more than a little uncomfortable.

"-had her commissioned to destroy my family. In the end we captured her, and while my mother wanted to burn her she was convinced otherwise. She was a ship of the line at the time, and no mean prize."

"What exactly is your meaning when you say you've been using this ship to earn money?" Jack asked suddenly, his eyes hard. Cora met his gaze head on, in the way Stephen had imagined so many times. They were more alike than either acknowledged.

"I do not mean piracy, if that is what you assume. I have remained true to the terms of my pardon, Captain Aubrey. In fact, I have been using her to capture French ships in the area and turn them over to the Navy, and protecting English merchants for a nominal fee."

The room was very still. Even Dominic recognized this topic as taboo and kept his eyes on his lap. Jack raised his glass and tilted his head to Cora.

"That was damned impolite of me, Miss Turner, and I apologize. Here we were with intentions of asking you if we might take advantage of your hospitality while we are here in Port Royal."

"Why are you here, Captain?" Will asked.

"For once my husband asks a valid question. And no one had to hit him on the back of the head to prompt it." Elizabeth said mildly, smiling at the glare he shot her.

As dinner was coming around Jack related the tale of their abandonment to the dinner guests. Will and Elizabeth offered the use of one of their rooms, but it was in Stephen's heart to say no.

"Why don't you come with me?" Cora asked when the talk quieted and Jack and Stephen seemed to be in thought.

"To Alameade?"

"It's no more than three days sailing, with fair winds. We're to have a midsummer party there when we arrive. You could come and stay with me a while, and I could have you back in Port Royal in time for you to meet your friend Captain Pullings. It would certainly be more interesting than this bloody rock, as you so charmingly put it."

Jack smiled and began to turn the idea over in his mind.

"Stephen?" He asked after a moment.

Stephen looked to Cora again, and he saw what she was offering. A meager way to make up for seven years of separation- but a way nonetheless.

"It seems a reasonable proposition." He said at last.

"Then it's settled. We'll wake to catch the morning tide and be on our way."

It was settled, and it brought a measure of peace to the table. The rest of the evening was spent in charming shallowness, relating amusing stories of life at sea and people in the room. Dominic nearly stood on his chair with the enthusiasm he showed recounting the story of his mother and the snake- and it was after Cora reprimanded him for likening her scream to that of a 'bloody banshee' that they decided to leave.

"Come and visit again soon," Elizabeth said as they stood in the entryway. "I should like to get to know the both of you better. There are rarely new people on this 'bloody rock' and rarer still are the interesting ones."

"But the company is always superb nonetheless." Will smiled, his arm around his wife's waist and kissing her temple. His arm circled her like it belonged there, showing the bond of years of marriage. It made Jack's heart ache for Sophie, and Stephen's ache for what he had never been granted.

"Fair winds!" He called as they were leaving.

Matthew had no need to take their leave, since he was climbing into the carriage with them. The ride back to Turner and Sons Blacksmith was quiet. Dominic was soon asleep on his mother's shoulder and she was staring out the window, her mind no doubt consumed with preparations for the next day's journey. Jack too was dozing, leaving Stephen with his thoughts.

He was partially terrified at the prospect of two weeks alone with Cora and partially exhilarated. The flame of resentment still flickered in his heart, but another flame he thought had burned to ashes was stirring again. It was the forbidden flame they had refused to name seven years before.

He roused Jack with a shake and ushered him inside when they reached the blacksmith's and sent him lumbering up the stairs, Cora close behind with Dominic in her arms. He and Matthew were left to climb the stairs together. To Stephen's great surprise, the silent man stopped him at the top.

"I don't know how much Cora told you about our family, but I was married to her mother's best friend. Liash. After what Norrington did to her, after we brought her back... she was convinced she couldn't love anymore. It tore us all apart. Cora grew up in the world her silence created. She grew up convinced she couldn't love either." He gave a ragged sigh and pushed his dark hair out of his face. "The point is, once upon a time I made Li feel something she didn't think she could feel anymore, but I had to fight for it. Think about that. Good bye."

With that, Matthew Turner disappeared back down the stairs into the darkness, leaving Stephen alone. After a minute or so he followed Jack's snores to his own bed where he lay for hours afterwards, steeling himself for the journey ahead.

-----------------------

A/N-- That chapter was a bit wandering, but I was having fun. It's mostly set up and characterization anyway, so I promise later chapters will be a bit more interesting. But wasn't it fun to hang out with Will and Elizabeth a bit? I realize that _Dead Man's Chest_ left some things in the air, as I've said before, but consider it as slightly AU for POTC.

And for anyone who doesn't remember (or didn't read my POTC quintet) Gillette was Norrington's faithful lieutenant. In our fifth and final POTC story, Cora's mother Arlen made one last desperate attempt to destroy him and he ended up annihilating them instead. Hence the animosity they showed his name at the dinner.


	3. The HMS Deliverance

A/N-- I'd like to add that I don't own Shakespeare, whom I quote in this chapter. 

----------------------

Chapter Three  
The HMS Deliverance  
_in which the course is plotted_

They were woken early by Cora's knock at the door.

"We're going to the dock in five minutes."

Jack, in his normal sailor's way, was up immediately and didn't take long to dress. Stephen was a step or two behind him, his body never having conformed completely to nautical schedules.

They came out into the main room and found a loaf of bread on the table along with some sliced ham. Dominic was already feasting on his own loaf of bread. A miniature sea chest was beside him on the ground, and he was surveying its contents carefully to ensure that nothing had been forgotten.

"I wish Momma would let me bring my wolf," He sighed. "I have a wolf, you know. Uncle Matthew gave him to me when he was just a pup. My wolf Mercutio was the pup, not Uncle Matthew. Uncle Matthew is older than Momma. He got him from Normandy, where he used to live before his wife died. Momma says I can't bring him with me because he'll eat all the stores. Maybe Uncle Matthew gave him to me because he at all the stores on his ship and he didn't like him anymore. He did have a prodigious great belly when he came, just like you, Captain. I feed him every day. Would you like to go feed him with me?"

Stephen blinked at Dominic, attempted to decide whether or not it was entirely healthy to speak so fast at length, found it beyond his mental faculties, and said the one thing that came to mind: "Coffee?"

"I'm not allowed to drink coffee. But maybe Momma will let me take the helm today- I hope she will. She made a box for me so I can reach it. But Mr. Gibbs always says it takes a year off his life so maybe I ought not, he being so very old already."

"Mr. Turner, I meant to ask whether or not there was coffee for myself, not to prompt an entirely irrelevant dissertation on navigation and age."

Dominic took Stephen's glowering in stride, although Jack gave him a reproachful look, and slid off his chair towards the kitchen. He returned lugging a battered silver pot with a trail of steam and pungent smell. Sensing disaster after years of working amongst midshipmen, Jack managed to steal the pot from him.

"There's a good lad, run back and get cups for the doctor and I."

"Would _you_ let me try the coffee, Captain?" He asked slyly when he returned and Jack was pouring his mug and Stephen's.

"I'm afraid I couldn't go over your mother's head like that." He smiled, settling down and beginning to collect food for himself.

"Who is going over my head?" asked a voice from behind them.

Stephen's belly was already warm with coffee, and turning to look her in the eye that warmth begin to squirm in a sensation that was neither pleasure nor pain but something uncomfortably in-between. He still wasn't used to the sight of her, no more than he was used to looking at Dominic and searching for some resemblance. Her dress was gone and she wore a brown coat with shining buttons very similar to the coat Jack wore, only plainer. Her customary breeches and boots were below the coat, and on her head was an archaic brown tricorne hat.

"Your son was trying to pull one over J. Aubrey, Miss Turner. He had wicked designs on this very coffee."

Cora sent her son a withering stare, which he cowered under until it lightened into a smile.

"Are you all packed, Dom? Finish your breakfast quickly, we must be off soon."

"Please God, no rushing about like today is Judgment Day. This isn't the Navy." Stephen groaned into his mug.

"Haste isn't peculiar to His Majesty's fleet, Doctor. It is the ocean herself who waits for no one." Cora replied. She'd scarcely finished speaking when Dominic leapt off his chair once more and went to her side, his fists buried in her coat.

"Momma, I must go feed Mercutio. Please let me go and say good-bye, I'll eat on the ship."

She hesitated for a moment, made the mistake of looking into his eyes, then sighed and gave in.

"Very well. That gives the doctor time to wake up in any case. They can't leave without us."

"I thought you said the ocean waited for no one." Stephen said mildly as Dominic went into the kitchen to search out his meat.

"No one but captains," He said as he rushed by with said food. "And my Momma is the captain of our ship."

Jack's eyes left his food for the first time to meet Cora's; of course it had been implied at dinner the night before- how else could she be making money off the ship her family had captured? But Stephen guessed that Jack had assumed someone else captained the Deliverance in her stead.

"You are the captain?" He asked in confirmation.

"Aye," She said. "I am the captain." The words didn't hold the joy they should've.

The two men finished eating (Cora said she'd already done so) and Dominic still hadn't returned. They followed his mother down the stairs and out the back door and saw him sitting on a barrel, and the head of an enormous black wolf in his lap. Its tail wagged idly as he stroked its head and spoke soft words of parting, but once the breeze shifted and it caught their sent its ears were at stiff attention. It eyed them then turned back to the sound of its owners voice. Dominic hefted the piece of meat in his hand then threw it away from him, leaving the wolf to chase it. The wolf ate in the dust as Dominic walked away.

"Good-bye, Mercutio." He whispered.

"Dom, go and make sure you have everything you want. Say good-bye to our house too."

The little boy left. The wolf raised its head at the sound of a door closing, its pale eyes gleaming in the predawn light, then went back to its food.

"He is much different than the she-wolf we saw in Spain, is he not, Stephen?" Jack remarked. "Is he of a different class? What is the word you use- a different species?"

"Yes, but he is never indigenous to these parts."

"The Wolfe clan brought them over from England years ago," Cora answered his unstated question. "His pack runs wild on the island of Normandy. We shall stop there before heading on to Alameade. Perhaps I can find a new pup for Dom then."

"And as for this one?" Stephen asked.

"_Help me into some house, Benvolio_  
_Or I shall faint. A plague a both your houses!_  
_They have made worm's meat of me_," Was her reply.

As Stephen found memories of Isla Cruces and waking to soft kisses and the words of Juliet rising in his mind, Cora unbuttoned her coat, drew her pistol, and fired a single shot into Mercutio's head.

"I couldn't have let him go free," She said when the smoke cleared and the body was still. "He would've started killing to stay alive. But God, I would've given a great deal to have avoided that. There has been a plague on both our houses for long enough in any case."

"Momma? What happened?"

Cora looked to Jack and he went back inside to calm the frightened voice. She turned to Stephen next.

"Help me move the body."

The wolf weighed more than they had expected and they were both grunting with effort by the time they got his body to the nearest pile of trash in the alleyway. Flies were already beginning to gather on the noble creature's face.

"A strange first pet for a child," Stephen remarked.

"He needed someone, anyone. It was hard in the early days. I didn't want to live on my grandparents' charity and I was barely at home. It was the last thing I wanted for him, but..."

"I could've supported you," He said quietly. "I'm not a man of little means."

"I know." She said, her eyes downcast.

They walked back to the house in a silence that was more or less comfortable, and met Jack and Dominic on the first floor. Matthew Turner stood near them.

"Did you think to sneak away without a proper good-bye, niece?" He gave her a tiny smile.

"Never in life, uncle," She smiled back, giving him a warm embrace. "Though I do hate good-byes. Alameade will always be open to you, remember that. You must come and visit whenever you're able, and bring those parents of yours with you. The house will be too quiet with just Dom and I there."

"You need more children to fill it up, I suppose," Matthew said. For the fleetest instant, his eyes went to Stephen. Then he released his niece and held her at arm's length. "Godspeed. Reach for that horizon."

"And you." Cora whispered. She stood back as Matthew bent to embrace Dominic.

"Uncle Matthew, watch Mercutio for me. You must feed him every morning." He said.

"I will do my best, although I don't know when I'll be home." Matthew's eyes went to Cora now, seeking confirmation. She gave him the tiniest of nods.

"Perhaps I should go give him some more food then, so he doesn't go hungry. He does love to eat." Dominic's brow creased in though.

"Wolves of his kind have remarkable constitutions, as I've read." Stephen said quickly. "Should you like to hear about them on our way to the harbor, Mr. Turner?"

"Very much so, if you'll tell me," Dominic's eyes brightened as he left his uncle to stand by the doctor. They walked out the door together, and Cora and Jack behind. Their things had been sent ahead of them, and there was no reason to look back at the dead house behind them, except perhaps to see the sadness of the man left alone within.

-----------------------

A short walk later they were surrounded by the sights and smells of the sea. There were many ships in the harbor, and many more idling in the cove beyond, but it didn't take long for Jack and Stephen to catch sight of the one they were heading for in the longboat.

She was easily the largest ship there, with two gun-decks and a powerful, broad bow. Jack counted the gun ports quickly and realized that she was a 74- rather large, if she used to be a ship of the fleet. His heart burned for a moment, realizing how valuable she might've been during the war. There was no use now, with Napoleon's fleet broken at Trafalgar (at the price of Nelson's life, almost too high a cost for so sweet a victory) and no one else left to challenge them.

Her creamy new sails were already spread and she groaned at the burden of her anchor, yearning to be on her way. He could hear a woman's voice calling aboard her, and as Cora came over the side with Dominic close behind, Stephen ahead and himself last, he was met with the sound of men coming to attention. There were no bosun's pipes and no marines, but he had to distract himself from the urge to respond to the salute.

His heart burned once more when he saw the men on deck- how many of these faces had been held captive aboard the _Surprise_? They paid dearly to capture them, and the better part of them had escaped the gallows.

_It may be that this was not the best of ideas, _he thought. _I've been aboard less than a minute and already I find myself in a trial. Where in God's name did you go, Tom?_

"Captain, all hands are present and sober." The woman whose voice he'd heard said, standing stiffly before Cora. Her stance grew even stiffer when she noticed the two men behind Cora. "Captain Aubrey, I believe."

"You are correct." It took a moment, and then the memory slid into place; she was the woman who came aboard the _Surprise_ when Cora was injured and surrendered the _Lone Star Running_ to them in exchange for her safe conduct and Stephen's care.

Cora caught the glares between them and stood straighter, addressing the crew at large.

"Gentlemen, I met some old friends of mine in a bind yesterday when I was ashore, and I couldn't leave them in their present circumstances. Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin will travel with us to Alameade to stay for two weeks, and then we will be retuning them to Port Royal. I expect you to treat them with more courtesy than you treat each other and even myself. Aye?"

"Aye." The cry was generally unanimous, and the silence that followed seemed to be waiting for orders. Jack looked to Cora, wondering why she didn't act, and saw a peculiar look of uncertainty on her face.

"Shall we cast off, captain?" The woman prompted.

"Aye. Raise anchor and set our courses. Send Gibbs to the helm to put us on course for Normandy. Anamaria, the deck is yours while I show our guests the ship." The words tumbled out and Cora's was blushing slightly by the end.

"You know them from before, Momma?" Dom asked in the hurricane of activity that followed.

"Now isn't the time, sweetheart. Go and get settled in." Once he was gone she turned to Jack. "I'm sure you don't really need to be shown around- make yourself at home, go wherever you please. The _Deliverance_ should feel very much like home to you. Our crew has been trained along the lines of the Navy, with some of our own particulars added in. My mother believed we required your discipline to be your match. You may take the entire larboard mids berth for yourself, Captain Aubrey. I believe your things are already there?"

"Thank you kindly, Miss Turner. Captain Turner, I should say."

She smiled a little weakly. "It's never sounded right, to tell the truth."

"Shall I take the starboard berth, then?" Stephen asked as Jack moved off to explore.

"Actually, I took the liberty of having all your things sent to the sick-bay. I told you before that we've never had a surgeon aboard, and it would set me at ease if you could fill the post during our journey. You'd be paid, of course."

"Payment isn't necessary."

"Very well. Shall I show the orlop to you? I believe ours is somewhat more aft than most other ships."

Stephen assented and she led him down in relative silence. They stood together in the empty space, trying not to look to each other but compelled by the memories of the Surprise's orlop and Stephen's cabin that were thick in the air between them. Their eyes met for scarcely a moment before Cora murmured something about taking the air on deck and left. Stephen found the darkness of the hold suited the feeling gnawing at his gut more than the ocean air, and sat alone on his swinging cot without lighting a candle.

---------------------

The morning watch ended with Port Royal far astern and the captain of the _Deliverance_ in her cabin, her head pillowed on her hand and charts before her. It was soothing to plot the course, not necessary- her first voyages were between Port Royal, Normandy and Alameade. As her compass traced the map, she was reassured by the sense that everything was on course, everything was right.

Dominic was on the floor behind her, his voice a pleasing layer to the symphony of noises a living, moving ship makes. He'd unpacked his favorite picture books and she'd given him an old chart of hers, and he was amusing himself by finding his favorite animals in the books and plotting an imaginary course to find them.

"Where are the Galapagos Isles, Momma?" He asked as her eyes were searching for Isla Cruces on her own map.

"Why don't you go and ask Captain Aubrey, Dominic? I hear he has traveled far." The voice was not his mother's, but Anamaria's. "He's taking the air on deck."

"Would he really help me with my chart?" He asked, gathering his map and his books unceremoniously in his arms. "I thought captains were always busy."

"Not when they're sailing freely on other people's ships." Young as he was, he didn't detect the faint acid in the dark woman's voice. "I'm sure he'd love to help."

Dominic was almost out the door when Cora finally turned to him.

"Dom, why don't you go and speak with Doctor Maturin first? Your books are quite old, and I'm sure he knows much more about where you can find your favorite animals than they do."

Dominic paused, deep in thought, then reached a conclusion.

"I shall see Doctor Maturin first, and then I'll go and see Captain Aubrey. Then I'll come back to you, Momma, so you can give the orders to set off on our new course."

Cora couldn't help but smile as he left, overshadowed by his treasures. Once the door to the great cabin closed she turned back to her charts, wishing Anamaria would leave with him. There was no room to ignore her, however; she damned James Norrington just once more in her head for making his cabin so small in order to perfect the _Deliverance_'s slaughtering capabilities.

"Are you certain it was wise to bring them?" Her lieutenant asked.

"He has a right to know his son. Dominic has a right to know his father." She said without turning.

"Does Dominic know?"

"...no."

"Then how can he even begin to know him right?"  
Her compass's sharp point dug into the chart, piercing it through into the wood beyond.

"He will know him. Soon."

"As soon as you know him again." Anamaria sighed; Cora could hear her come closer and still didn't turn. "Cora, I only saw the two of you when you began to fall apart. I don't know what it was like when you first fell in love-"

"He never said he loved me."

"Just because it wasn't said doesn't mean the two of you weren't in love."

"You just said you didn't know us when it was going well, if it ever did go well. How could you know?"

"I know because I see the way you look at that little boy sometimes when he isn't watching."

Cora sighed, a little in defeat.

"The truth is we barely knew each other. I don't even know the day he was born or if he has any siblings or who his favorite composer is. But I have thought of no one else in these seven years. Not once." She fell silent, feeling fear beating faster in her ribcage. "My God, Ana, I haven't made a mistake bringing him, have I? We could still be forced into- and it would be worse now. He could've stopped loving me, if he ever did. We won't even have what we could've had seven years ago- whatever it was. Have I-?"

"I can't answer that question for you. You need to sail your own ship now. That's the decision you made when your mother died. And I still don't believe the decision you said you made two days ago. Does this change anything?"

"This is my last voyage, Anamaria. I'm going to stay on Alameade and raise my son. I'll name you captain of this ship- God knows it's past time. Jack Sparrow never did give you your ship. And God knows it's past time for me to stop running about the ocean like I'm someone I'm not."

"Like you're your mother?" She asked softly.

Cora said nothing.

"Turning your back on the past doesn't make it go away."

It took Cora some time of searching her maps to find a suitable answer to what Anamaria had said, but by the time she turned to deliver it, she was already gone.

--------------------

Stephen sensed Cora's presence on deck long before Dominic left his side. He could hear the salutes, but he knew that was an external reason for his knowledge. His innate sense of where she was hadn't dulled.

Stephen looked met her eyes across the deck and felt the weight of seven years settle between them. It had been a long time since they were lovers. Cora had been young then, himself less so, but the fact remained that much had changed. Stephen didn't doubt his own feelings; he knew he still loved Coraline Jacqueline Turner the moment he saw her again in Port Royal. The feelings he doubted were hers.

It took Dominic a little longer to notice his mother's presence, but once he did he abandoned the books spread before him and Stephen's lecture on phasmids to run to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked into her eyes and asked if they could sail for the Galapagos now. She just laughed and ran her fingers through his hair, and said 'someday.' He buried his face in her stomach and she held him there, heedless of the crew around her that looked to her as a captain and not a mother.

The image sent a bolt of heat straight to Stephen's loins and brought another, more visceral memory into his mind. It was just after he and Cora made love on Isla Cruces in a secluded pool. She'd stood up, a trickle of blood between her legs. He kissed her belly and asked for her forgiveness. She ran her fingers through his hair in just the same way, and told him not to be sorry. He wondered if that was the joining that Dominic took his life from, if that was why he shouldn't have been sorry for causing her pain. They would never know. But it had never quite struck him that Dominic was his, and that he desperately wanted Cora to be his again.

As if sensing his thoughts, Cora looked to him and smiled. But then she turned and walked away, taking their son with her.

------------------

A/N-- Ahh, so much angst. They make me laugh. But then again, that could be my sugar high. Reviews, as always, merit M&M's and a double ration of grog! Many thanks to **FuchsiaII**, **silverwolf of the night**, and **Oriana** for their reviews.


	4. Port of Call

A/N-- I must give a nod to **silverwolf of the night** here, as she requested the last part of this chapter a long time ago. Thirteen years was too long a wait after all. Normandy, the Wolfe family, and their pack of wolves all belong to her. Cheers and enjoy! 

Once more, I don't own Shakespeare. Cora just seems to be addicted to him.

------------------  
Chapter Four  
Port of Call  
_in which respects are paid_

Four bells in the darkness, and Jack Aubrey's innate sense of time told him it was two in the morning. He lay wide awake in the darkness, his body still slack with sleep, and felt the wooden world of the _Deliverance_ shudder around him. She was starting repeatedly, griping at her course and veering uneasily from the wind. His body roused he rose from his hammock and pulled on his boots and coat; it was uncommon cold.

The deck was utterly dark. A few clouds scudded across the moon and stars, unable to stop their light entirely, for scarcely a light was necessary on deck. He could make out the entire watch without squinting his eyes. His eye drifted naturally towards the rear of the ship and saw with some surprise that it was the captain at the helm. She'd removed her hat and coat and seemed very much at ease. When he looked closer, he realized her eyes were closed.

"Good morning, Captain."

Jack couldn't help but start at the gravelly voice behind him. He turned to see an old sailor with side-whiskers leering at him, drinking from an ornate canteen. He recognized him as one of the prisoners from the _Surprise_ and immediately made up his mind to dislike the man for cheating death.

"Good morning to you, sir."

"Joshamee Gibbs is the name. Bosun, quartermaster, cox'n... whatever you need me for."

"Are you needed at the helm? Your captain seems in need of relief."

Gibbs glanced at the helm and for a minute his forbidding face softened in a smile.

"She's always so happy up there. Born to these waters. She can sail 'em in her sleep, like she seems to be doing now."

"Perhaps someone should wake her. It would appear our wind is dying."

"Aye, so it is, and it takes a strong wind to keep this ship alive. I'll drop our studdings'ls and raise the royals and she'll pull us into Normandy a little later today, so we might pay our respects."

"To whom?"

"The dead." He raised his canteen to his lips and took another drink, as if in saluting.

Jack was uncertain precisely where the resemblance lay, but he was reminded of Killick as he stood beside the grey old sailor. The realization brought a twinge of longing into his breast- a longing for a ship of his own where he might be woken every day by the steward's angry grumbling. Not that it wasn't nice to travel with old Tom for a bit, to get away from land and all its pressing needs (debt knocking at his door again, Mrs. Williams worse than ever, the barmaid's child that looked enough like Jack to have Sophie in a tizzy) but he wanted so very much to be a captain in his own right once more.

"Ye'd best be heading below again, Captain," Gibbs said, mocking him without ever knowing he did so. "The men won't take kindly to being gawked at."

"I suppose that's the reason their captain sleeps at the helm."

Gibbs's eyes hardened.

"Is she tells me her ears have been buzzing, I'll tell her it's you that was talking about her. That's the last thing she needs, after-"

"Pass the word for Mr. Gibbs. Raise studdings'ls and set royals."

Gibbs left to his captain's call without ever taking his leave of Jack. He stood amidships, feeling vaguely lost and hating the sensation, until Cora passed by him.

"Miss- Captain Turner, I beg your pardon. It seems so very strange still." He bowed slightly.

"I'd settle quite happily for you calling me Cora at this late sage. I seem to have inherited some quality that gives men a terror of my first name. My grandfather had scarcely begun to call my grandmother Elizabeth at the time of their wedding." She smiled a little. "But I'm for my hammock. Good night, Captain Aubrey."

"Good night."

The conversation felt strangely unfinished as he grappled for the correct name to call her; once she was gone he turned his head to his other conversation, also left to flap open like a hatch in a storm wind. It was quite possible that old Gibbs had meant nothing more than what had happened on the dear _Surprise_ by his last statement, but the same instinct that told him what time it was when he woke told him that this was not the case.

He looked around him and opened himself up to that intuition once more; he could feel the unhappiness in the ship, in Gibbs's defense of her captain, in Anamaria's prompting, and in the way the crew watched her as she left the deck.

_You mark this now, Aubrey. Something is afoot._

--------------------

"Ah, I see her there. Normandy is abaft us, is she not?"

"Dead ahead, old soul," Jack sighed. "Our wake is abaft us."

Stephen glared at Jack and then put his eye to the glass once more.

"A rather small island, I should think. I wonder what manner of beasts are to be found there. It is more than likely that the wolves the pirates brought killed off most of the indigenous species, and I shall find nothing but cattle and sheep and homo sapiens. I say, Jack, the lens of this glass is quite scratched up. Ought you not buy a new one while we're in port?"

"The moment I have a ship I shall. I must've looked a scrub aboard the Renown, always asking the mids to borrow their glass. Tom tried to make me a gift of one of his, but I couldn't bring myself to accept it."

"Nor could I if I were you, joy." Stephen said kindly, giving back the wounded glass to its equally injured owner, and wishing there was something he could do to repair them both. "I know how difficult it has been for you to come by a command."

"Unless it's been through your connections. Not that I am ungrateful, not in the least degree at all."

"I understand your meaning. Never fear. I only wish the Admiralty would stop snubbing you for something that happened seven years ago."

Jack's career had just barely survived the fact that he pardoned Cora and let her go free- she didn't even have a belly to plead as Anne Bonnie and Mary Read had. In hindsight Stephen realized that she had, although none of them had known it at the time. Briefly he contemplated bringing it up in private with one of his connections, and then he discarded the notion; it would do little to improve Jack's case if he said that the pirate he'd pardoned was pregnant with his surgeon's child when he pardoned her.

They lapsed into silence. The deck was awash with midmorning sun and the off-watch had appeared on it to join their fellows in various games. Dice and cards abounded, and Stephen sensed Jack's disapproval; Cora had been fair in admitting that they made their allowances to naval rules when her family adopted them. Another group stood apart from these small clusters; Gibbs, Anamaria and another sailor were playing tops with Dominic. Stephen's eyes drifted irresistibly to him in the silence.

Then that silence was shattered with oaths and the slithering sound of swords drawn. Both their eyes flew to the furthest group of sailors and saw two of them with cutlasses out feinting and dodging, clearly reading for a fight over an unfair toss of dice.

Stephen had to put his hand on Jack's to prevent him from rushing to stop it; the urge to command was strong in him, but this was for the ship's real captain to decide. He wanted to see how she would handle it, curious to know how a woman who'd never had a sense of her own worth would feel under the yoke of command.

Said woman was produced moments later by the call of her first mate. The men had already been separated and she strode across the deck with amazing calm. Jack and Stephen joined the large cluster forming around her.

"What's all this?" She asked when the perpetrators were held before her, bloodied and sweating and not looking very guilty at all.

"A dice game gone awry. They were both prepared to kill." Anamaria said.

Every man on deck- even Dominic, who'd wormed his way to the front of the crowd -waited with baited breath for the verdict. Cora stood silently in their midst, hardly breathing herself. Yet she didn't seem lost in thought. Instead she seemed hesitant.

"What will be their punishment?" Anamaria prompted, as before, like a schoolteacher waiting for the answer to a simple question.

"No rum." She turned and started to walk away. Another difference they'd noticed immediately, of course, was that nothing less than pure rum was tolerated by the crew.

"For how long?" The dark woman called.

"Until we reach Alameade." She kept walking.

"That be all for drawing cutlass on your ship with a mind for murder?"

Cora stopped at last and turned to face her first mate.

"Work them double tides for the rest of the voyage as well. They are to be kept in separate messes and banned from all card games."

"Is that all, captain?"

A strained pause followed. All eyes turned to the captain.

"Yes, that is all."

She disappeared back into her cabin.

The crew shifted back into their spots but there was no longer so much noise. Cora appeared after one bell to change the trim of her sails and they seemed relieved with an order to carry out. She reappeared once more after another bell and collected Dominic from Gibbs and Anamaria.

"Go and fetch your sextant, it's time for the noon observation." She said.

"Very like the Navy indeed." Jack said. Her eyes flickered to him but she said nothing.

Dominic reappeared shortly and Cora guided him slowly through the same exercise Stephen had seen midshipmen go through countless times. It was at once comforting and unsettling; it belonged to another world, to the Navy's world, and Stephen had never ceased to think of Cora as a pirate. It wasn't with spite or disapproval. It was simply what she was.

Watching Dominic Stephen strained to see something of himself in him; he was clearly wedded to the sea, as Cora was, but was this a product of birth or of rearing? It was more likely than not that his interest in the natural studies was Cora's doing, an attempt to plant something of Stephen in his son. And if it was, what did that say about her feelings for him? He dismissed the thought just as it was made noon.

"You performed the observation just as well as any midshipman I've ever seen," Jack praised as Dominic passed by him. "What else has your mother taught you?"

Dominic led him eagerly away to put him through a long discussion of every piece of the ship he knew; Stephen found a moment to be glad that he hadn't inherited his lubberliness, which until now he had assumed was an inherent trait.

He realized that Cora had remained beside him at the taffrail, once their sacred haunt, only as she was turning to walk away. Without stopping to think about the motion he reached out and caught her hand, pulling her back. For a frozen moment they stood there, staring at the connection of their bodies and wondering where precisely they went from there.

Stephen dropped her hand and she didn't move away, and only when their eyes met did he remember to speak.

"I'd wondered if you had time to take a walk with me." As we used to.

"There is nothing pressing. I don't see why not. Why don't we go up to the mizentop and get a better view of Normandy?"

Stephen imagined the high, cramped space, finding himself so close to her and unable to touch her.

"I'm afraid I'd only slow your climb."

"Well, we could simply... sit here I suppose. Or we could take a walk in the hold, down to the orlop- why did I suggest that?" She turned and seemed ready to walk away, then held herself and turned back to him. "God damn it all, Stephen, I have never been able to speak properly around you."

She walked away and he followed. They moved to the starboard rail and walked along it, mostly silent.

"What color are Dominic's eyes?" He asked at last. "I haven't found the opportunity to look. It was hard to tell when we met."

"Blue." She answered after hesitating. "I thought they might be like your eyes when he was born- they were so very light -but now they're blue. The palest shade of blue I've ever seen." Another pause. "He freckles like you, sometimes, if I let him out in the sun without his shirt."

They reached the bow, and stood there feeling the spray.

"You've kept his hair long."

"All the men in my family have. I thought yours was a little strange when we first- but then when I touched it for the first time I- oh, hell."

They kept walking. They were on the larboard rail amidships when a sailor ran to them.

"Begging your pardon, Captain, but it's Dominic."

Her face darkened immediately. "What's happened?"

"He's-"

"Look, Momma!"

All three heads swiveled up to see a small boy clinging to the mainmast. Jack was nowhere to be seen.

"Dominic, come down here." Cora called.

"I'm going to climb to the topgallants Momma, all the way up!"

"Come down now, Dominic. You remember what happened last time. You only got halfway up and then I had to come and get you."

He continued to climb.

"Shouldn't you simply bring him down now?" Stephen asked. Cora sighed.

"He has to learn. Besides, it gives me heart knowing you'd be here to patch him up if he did fall. It gives me heart." She repeated more softly as they continued to walk.

Stephen saw the man coming first and seized Cora, pulling her out of the way and leaving the rolling drunk to crash into the rail. He grinned toothily at them, collected the pair of dice he'd run after, and returned to his game.

He'd caught her around the waist and for the briefest of instants the full line of their bodies touched. Then they heard Anamaria's strong voice berating the sailor and stopping his rum for the remainder of the voyage- "More for the rest of us!" Was the last they heard before she was upon them and they were a respectable distance apart.

"Captain, I must speak with you. Something funny happened with our stores in Port Royal."

"I'm glad we're docking at Normandy then, so we can rectify it. What seems to be amiss?"

"It's not that we're missing anything- just come and see to the accounts with me."

Cora gave Stephen an apologetic look and left. Apparently the Service wasn't the only thing with requirements.

He remained where he was for the moment, watching the island in the distance growing steadily closer. He was in danger of losing himself in his own mind when he felt the roll of the sea change and strengthen and heard the sharp cry.

"Momma."

Dominic's frantic cries were joined by those of other sailors. Some were shouting for sailcloth to catch him in, others for the captain. Stephen ignored them all. He shot up the mainmast to the boom where the boy was dangling faster than he'd ever climbed before. He didn't have to prompt Dominic to take his hand; the boy curled himself around his torso as securely as a sloth.

"You're safe now." He whispered, one arm around Dominic and the other tight around the mainmast to steady them against the roll of the sea below them. "Never fear. You're safe."

"I want to go see Momma." He managed to say through his tears.

Stephen tried not to feel a twinge of jealousy at the words. He was soothed only by the fact that when he asked Dominic if he wanted to climb down himself or not he shook his head and clung more tightly.

"I'll stay with you."

His descent was far slower and less graceful than his ascent had been. He'd ignored the roll and swell of the sea that had put Dominic of his balance in the first place when he raced up, and now he found himself sweating and doubting his footholds. Luckily several sailors met him halfway up- "We'll take the boy, sir, no harm done," -he turned them down on this offer but was grateful for their guidance and ready hands as he completed their descent.

Cora was already waiting along with the greater part of the crew when he set Dominic down at last. He felt strangely cool where the small boy had clung to him; he had an impression of wiry strength, very like Stephen's own, in the little frame.

"Is he unharmed, Doctor?" Cora asked, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

"Yes." He kept Dominic's hand in his.

"My thanks, Doctor, for saving him."

"It was no trouble." With that, he released his son.

Dominic ran to Cora but she wouldn't let him embrace her. Instead she took his hand and very quietly led him to the great cabin.

Anamaria instinctively took control of the deck and ordered everyone back to their places. Stephen was left adrift by the mainmast and finally went back towards the quarterdeck. It was on his way there that he happened to glance into the ajar door of the great cabin, where he saw the captain on her knees clutching her son and trying not to cry as she soothed his own tears. It occurred to him that as they had both held Dominic that close in the past five minutes it was as though he were a connection between them; it was also as though he was the one thing keeping them apart.

------------------------

Eight bells and the first dogwatch began. The sailors filed back onto the _Deliverance_, shore leave filling their head with thoughts that carried them far away from the terror on the mainmast at noon. It had drifted in and out of Stephen's head all the rest of the day as he wandered over Normandy, especially when he found the small wolf pup crying pitifully in the jungle. She gnawed on his finger now and squirmed against his side as he waited for her new caretaker to arrive.

He had no time to give her away at first, since several sailors that came aboard had been involved in a bar fight and required his attention. Some of their fellows had worn flowers in their hair, and privately he noted down them down to prepare himself for the inevitable venereal diseases.

Half the crew was at their dinner and roaring with merriment when he left the orlop for the great cabin, a book in one hand and a wolf in the other. He knocked and only faintly heard a voice calling for him to enter.

Dominic's miniature hammock swung empty and the boy was nowhere in sight, but his mother was. Cora sat slouched in a chair, a book in one hand and a bottle in the other. She didn't turn to acknowledge him until she'd taken a healthy swig from the latter.

"I see you've found another wolf for dear Dominic. Perhaps this one will be Tybalt."

"I should think not, seeing as that this wolf is a she."

"Ah. Juliet then? No, I shall persuade him to name her Viola. Her tale has a much happier end." She raised her book as if in illustration.

"_Twelfth Night_?"

"Yes indeed.  
_Good madonna why mourn'st thou?  
Good Fool, for my brother's death.  
I think his soul is in hell, madonna.  
I know his soul is in heaven, Fool.  
The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul, being in heaven_."

She smiled bitterly, put down the book and took another drink. Stephen noticed that her cheeks were rosy, and not just with alcohol. They gleamed wetly in the candlelight. "I saw my grandparents when I went to visit the old Wolfe mansion. My uncle Matthew died the day we left for Alameade. They brought him here to be buried beside his wife. They've lived to see their great-grandson, but they've had to bury two sons along the way. I pray to any god that will listen to spare me that fate. I doubt they'll listen.

"My family seems to be very good at dying. I'll bet you my sister Ashli is dead too. I know she escaped prison in Port Royal, but where has she been? Not with me. She could never speak to the woman who destroyed us all."

Stephen set his book down beside hers, found a chair and sat at her side.

"I'm afraid all I have to offer are condolences. Perhaps you should try and take the advice you have just read to me. Give me that," He said softly, indicating the bottle.

Cora handed it to him and he set it on the floor beside him. It didn't matter if it spilled; it was already mostly empty.

"I'm so glad you've come to see me, Stephen. If it was anyone else I'd have to be the captain and hold myself in one piece. With you I can be my wonderfully unraveled self. I was going to invite you to dinner tonight, you know. And Jack too."

"You don't appear to be in any state to entertain, my dear. For you I suggest a meal and rest."

"I'm sorry I won't be able to entertain tonight," She sighed. "I very much detest being alone."

It stole over him, as strangely as in a dream, with the memory of a frightened young boy clinging to him in the backdrop. He scarcely knew what he was saying, but knew that once it was out of his mouth he would regret it forever.

"It is strange," Stephen replied. "To think that one who professes to hate loneliness should never reach out for comfort in seven years."

Her face, dreamy and sorrowful before, turned instantly into a snarling mask of range.

"Get out."

He left, feeling little joy at the blow he'd snuck at her, and hating himself all the more knowing that he had been guilty of the same crime.

--------------------

A/N-- I swear, I have no idea what is up with Shakespeare and Cora right now. They must be having an affair in my head. I've got every copy of his plays in my house lying on my desk. But hey, if it keeps the muse going I'll go with it, and I just wrote two chapters straight.

Reviews, bitte? Thanks to **silverwolf of the night**, **Fuchsia II** and **Oriana8** for their thoughtfulness! School just started for me, so more reviews will guilt me into continuing to write more.


	5. Midnight Rendezvous

A/N-- I must say I'm very excited to introduce this chapter. Enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

------------------------

Chapter Five  
Midnight Rendezvous  
_in which a warning is given_

Stephen didn't read the note that came with his breakfast the next morning. He couldn't bring himself to burn it either, although his hand wavered dangerously close to his solitary candle. Part of him said that he was behaving like a child. The other part wanted only to indulge in this directionless fury and hate Coraline Jacqueline Turner without regret.

The truth was that it wasn't hate. It was some darker form of love. He knew it was because when he finally made his way to the deck and saw her speaking with Anamaria his heart ached for them to be back aboard the _Surprise_, when what they felt for each other seemed so much simpler.

_Stephen Maturin, I want you, and it is the simplest thing in our world right now. Tell me that you don't feel the same._

It was the closest they'd ever come to admitting their love for each other.

When she turned to look at him, Stephen could only walk away. The tables had turned on them- their situation was so much simpler than before, now that Cora's mother was dead and she was a free woman, but their feelings had been changed drastically.

He'd seen Diana Villiers only a few times in the last seven years. He'd heard of her all too often- another country, another lover, how far could a woman fall? But just before he left on the _Renown_ he'd come too close to her for comfort.

It was late in the grey London day. Stephen had passed on dinner in favor of completing his letter to Sir Joseph Blaine- regretfully, he had not found the beetles he was seeking -and ensuring that his sea chest was complete. He was going to catch a chaise to Ashgrove as soon as he was done. When he heard the knock at the door he'd assumed it was his landlady coming to try and force some sturgeon down his throat once more and his face was appropriately screwed up in annoyance. It slackened in disbelief when he saw who really stood before him.

"Don't leave me standing out here, Maturin," Diana Villiers said. "I'm cold enough as it is."

"I'm afraid I wasn't expecting company, Villiers. I am on the wing. I have no fire."

"You have time for an old friend, haven't you?"

Friend was an interesting term to apply. Jilted lover and betrayed fiance were phrases that came to mind. Stephen stood aside to let her in.

She had grown older of course. He hadn't expected the age to show, but it did. She'd clearly remained in the tropics; her complexion was no better than before, and in the pale light of England it didn't glow as it had in Bombay. She wore more rouge to try and hide it. Her dress was simple and warm, and her black hair swept up against the back of her head to reveal the neck that had always enticed him so.

"Is this where you live when you aren't off running about with Aubrey? It is exactly as I expected. It suits you, Maturin."

"Must I take that as a compliment?"

"Yes, or I shall change it into an insult. No, don't bother with tea," She said, stopping him in his preparations. "If you are on the wing then so am I." Almost in contradiction to this statement, she found herself a seat before the dead fireplace. Stephen joined her after hesitating.

"Why have you come, Villiers?"

"I am in-between keepers once again," She tried to say it with a smile but it never reached her eyes. "And I thought to give you another chance."

Stephen sat in stony silence, words of anger rising in his mind and then dissipating before he could utter them.

"Don't stare at me like that. It's past time for both of us, Maturin. I'm done gallivanting the world like a trumped up whore. Come, even Aubrey is married now. Let us seal this whole miserable business and be done with it." She was curiously close to begging, closer than he'd ever seen. It did more to harden his heart than to soften it.

Even now he could scarcely remember what he'd thought upon hearing those words. There was a time when he would have given anything to hear them from her- a time when he'd killed a good man that she might be his. But now... he felt hesitant, and a pair of grey-blue eyes he'd tried to hard to forget was rising in his mind.

_No parting is forever._

"I must leave soon. I'm going to the Caribbean with Jack and Tom Pullings." He said, his lips pressed tight together. "It's my turn to leave you hanging now, Villiers. Stay in England, stay here if you have nowhere else to go, and you shall have my answer when I return."

He saw her wish to protest flash through her eyes, but she lowered them and subdued it before their eyes met again.

"Fair enough, Maturin. I suppose I should begin to compose myself for months of waiting on you in any case. I hope I don't turn into a sentimental wreck like Sophie does, writing letters every day and counting down the days."

"Remember, I have not given you an answer." Stephen cautioned as he led her to the door.

Diana stood on the landing outside his room and watched him for a moment before she stood up on her toes to kiss him on the mouth. He couldn't bring himself to respond to the light touch before she pulled away.

"I have always loved you, Maturin, after my own fashion." With that, she was gone.

He hadn't given her proposal much thought after they left, adopting Jack's tendency to leave the problems of land on land and lose himself in the immediacy of the sea. Now it came to haunt him. Diana would never make such an offer again; were he to refuse her and Cora to refuse him in turn, he doubted he could ever find a woman to inspire a passion equal to what they had inspired in him. Did he jump out of the frying pan and into the fire if he said no?

He spent the day avoiding company when possible, until at the very end of it he felt his own musings had gotten him nowhere. He went to where Jack was berthed only to find it empty. On deck once more, he found one of the sailors who'd helped he and Dominic come down off the mainmast the day before and asked him if he'd seen the Navy captain.

"Well, sir," He responded awkwardly. "I believe he's at dinner with Captain Turner and the rest of them."

The feeling Stephen had set out in search of was his now; he felt empty of all his thoughts as he went to the taffrail and sat down, watching the sunset stain the water in varying shades of blood before succumbing to night at last. Laughter drifted from the great cabin. The sailors gathered on deck for more games and dance. Stephen continued to enjoy his feeling of blissful remove from the world, and was even contemplating sleep when he noticed the first white flicker in the darkness.

"Does anyone have a glass?" He called. A sailor sitting on the steps leading to the quarterdeck playing a drum paused and tossed one to him. He caught it and trained it on the white spot he'd noticed. It was indeed a sail.

"Did the sawbones see something?" A sailor called.

"There is a ship behind- _abaft_ us. Someone call- _pass the word_ for the captain."

The captain was called and moments later she, Anamaria, Gibbs, Jack and Dominic stood at his side with their own glasses out.

"Good eyes, Stephen. I never would've suspected it of you," was Jack's only remark.

"She'll have the weather-gauge, whoever she is," Anamaria sighed. "Orders, Captain?"

Cora hesitated to answer, then said at last, "Reef in our sails and slow us down. I want to see who she is before we run or turn and fight."

"You're going to let her catch us up?"

"Those were my orders."

"Aye, Captain."

Gibbs turned to carry out the orders and Cora remained where she was.

"Do you remember what to do if there is a battle, Dominic?" She asked quietly.

"Hide in the big locker in your cabin and don't come out until you or Gibbs or Anamaria comes for me." He recited.

"That's my lad," She said, putting one arm around him and keeping the other on her spyglass.

The chase progressed more quickly than most others. Cora altered the trim of the sails several times, keeping the _Deliverance_ more or less in the same space of water while the other ship grew steadily larger. It was grossly smaller than they were- a sloop of perhaps the old _Sophie_'s size -and the mood on deck was relaxed.

Two hours after they first sighted her, Cora opened her glass once more to observe the ship. Her face broke out into a wide grin when she lowered it.

"Hard a'larboard. Bring her in a circle so we're parallel, but maintain our distance. For now, of course."

The orders were given and the _Deliverance_ turned in a smooth arc until she was directly parallel to the other ship, which was about two miles distant from their starboard rail.

"Give me the helm. I'll bring us in closer." Cora said, dismissing the sailor who'd been steering.

They beat and tacked their way closer, closer, but the ship didn't fire. As the other sailors got a look at her, they too began to smile. No one would say why, though, and Jack and Stephen were left feeling in the dark. Then at last they were within range.

"Gun crew one, to the bow chaser with the captain excepted. I'll do the honors."

Several sailors went to the gun in question. Cora turned the helm over to Jack- "Just keep her steady as she is," -and followed them. The gun loaded and primed, Cora aimed it carefully for the ship off their starboard bow. She lay almost on top of the cool metal, her eye level with the nozzle. After several breathless minutes of aiming and adjusting, she fired on the upward roll.

Every eye followed the shot eagerly and watched as it shot away the left breast of the ship's rather voluptuous nude figurehead.

"Bring us in closer, Captain Aubrey." Cora called, grinning. "I believe there is a message for us."

The other ship drew closer at the same they did, and when they were within shouting distance both crews crowded to the rails to laugh and point and jeer. One man, in ornate dress with a large hat, leapt up onto the railing and took hold of the rigging.

"Cora Turner, ye wee bitch, drop your anchor and answer for what you've done to my poor Molly!" He shouted. Stephen was jarred by the lilt in his voice; he was in the Caribbean, not home in Ireland, and it took him a moment to bring the two realities together.

"As you wish, Captain!" Cora called. She was laughing to herself when she moved away from the bow chaser and gave the orders to raise canvas and drop the anchor. "Oh, and Gibbs, put a studdings'l over the side for the men to swim in. Everyone has the night off."

There were raucous cheers at this and the orders were carried out in double-quick time.

"What ship is this?" Jack asked as Cora came back to the quarterdeck.

"The _Unlucky Limerick_," She replied, her grin still in place. "Her captain is an old friend of mine. A _very_ old friend."

_You have time for an old friend, haven't you?_

"Would you like to come over with me and meet him?" Cora asked, drawing Stephen back into the present. "It's sure to be a lively party."

"I'd be delighted, so long as we can bring that bottle of burgundy with us. The finest stuff I've ever had, I declare!" Jack laughed, catching the infectious joy of the ship.

"I should like to come, assuming that invitation was directed to me as well." Stephen said, his words frosty.

For just a moment Cora's joyous face faded and the sorrow that normally surrounded her closed in once more. Then Jack intervened.

"Oh come now, Stephen, don't be a scrub. You've been lurking below decks like a stowaway all day and I say it's time for you to come along with us and have a good time. We won't take no for an answer, will we Captain Turner?"

"Indeed we will not." Cora smiled slowly. "Come, Stephen. I have a feeling you'll like Finn."

So it was that he got into the barge with them and went over to the Limerick, where a very disgruntled man was waiting for them. He was tall and broad shouldered, nearly as imposing as Jack but trimmer, and younger too. His face was lined, scarred and tanned; his nose had been broken more than once. There was something boyish about him, despite his angry scowl.

"What in hell did ye do that for, Cora?" He asked when they stepped on the deck. "My poor Molly has but one breast now!"

"I've only made her an Amazon, Finn." Cora said mildly. "Surely she'll fight all the better for it."

Finn tried to keep up his furious mask, but it wasn't to last. The skin around his hazel eyes began to crinkle and then he swept Cora up in his arms and twirled her around a few times before putting her down and giving her a hug that seemed designed to strangle her. Stephen noted with faint displeasure that she didn't hesitate to return the embrace.

"My God, lass, it's been too long! Where's that lad of yours? Dominic, ye haven't forgotten your old Uncle Finn like your twice cursed mother has, have ye?"

"She isn't cursed, Uncle Finn!" Dominic laughed as Finn released Cora and swept him up instead.

"And who have you brought with ye?" Finn asked when they'd calmed.

"Allow me to introduce Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin." Cora said, stepping aside to let Finn get a better look.

"Pleasure, gentlemen. Finn Walsh, the captain of this sloop. Would ye care to come in for a drink? I believe we haven't finished all of the pale ale in this ship."

"Pale ale, Finn? Good God, what sort of goods have you been running to get money like that?" She held up her hand when he started to speak. "Never mind. What I don't know can't come and bite me in the arse later."

"No, but it might up and decide to give it a squeeze anyway." Finn smiled lewdly. Understandably, Cora insisted that he walked ahead of her as they walked to his cabin.

As they sat, it occurred to Stephen that he'd never seen Cora in spirits before. He'd seen her on a heady mix of wine and rum once, but it was much different. Now she roared with laughter at the limericks Finn coined for them as loudly as Jack did (his ship was aptly named; the protagonists never fared well, although their ends were humorous) and helped herself to the ale with abandon. Finn wouldn't allow Stephen to sit out of the fun, and frequently forced him to take some of the drink too.

"Clearly Maturin here isn't impressed with my clever tongue," He said in a lull that followed. "What would tickle your fancy?"

"An anecdote." Stephen said. "Cora said that you are a very old friend of hers, and so you must know much more than any of us about her."

"Aye, that is more than likely true." Finn drained his tankard, belched, then sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. After a moment he sat up. "I know just the one to tell."

"Finn," Cora warned, her voice rising slightly.

"Now, now, Cora, this is my ship and you have no right to tell me not to tell this story." He cleared his throat and began.

"This was in '98, when Cora was eighteen and I wasn't much older. We'd known each other on and off for the last few years. Our ships happened to dock at Tortuga at the same time and we met up in the Faithful Bride, the best known tavern in all the Spanish Main.

"Well, we started drinking, because that's what you do in the Faithful Bride. Cora wasn't one for liquor at the time, at least not for liquor's sake. But, with my sweet charms and silver tongue, I soon had her downing a mug a minute."

"Oh, bollocks!" Cora cried. "You switched my glass of water for the first three and then you dared me on all the rest!"

"Like I said, sweet charms and silver tongue. I charmed you away from noticing the switch and convinced your honor to keep going afterwards."

Cora looked like she had to fight the urge to strangle Finn.

"Before this drunken fool decides to change the story even more, I'll finish it. I got rip-roaring drunk, threw all three sheets to the wind, and started a brawl in the Faithful Bride that soon consumed all of Tortuga. I'm not proud of it, but it's what happened."

Jack chuckled a bit at this, but no one else did.

"Cora, ye spoiled the story. It's not entertaining the way you tell it."

"Perhaps because I never found it entertaining, Finn."

"Well, I do have another story I think we all ought to know." He said afterwards. "D'ye remember the _Judas_, Cora? And the _Bloody Cutlass_?"  
Cora's forehead creased in thought for a moment, and then she nodded. "Yes. They were powerful pirates that sailed these waters when my family had to go into hiding. We pushed them out once we made our comeback in '98, but couldn't sink them. They returned here not long ago." She said to Jack and Stephen.

"Aye, and I'd imagine they're just as powerful now that they've joined Davy Jones at the bottom of the sea." Finn said grimly.

"What?" Cora asked, agape. "Who sunk them?"

"The _Fraternité_." Finn's voice was low now.

"The French privateer?" Jack asked, his eyes narrowing.

"The same, I believe. Her captain is some aristocratic bastard who has a blood feud with every pirate in the Spanish Main."

"She sank the _Judas_ and the _Cutlass_?" Cora asked softly, disbelieving.

"Within days of each other, and without a single spar set off kilter."

Silence stretched between them.

"I don't understand, Finn," Cora said. "Why are you telling us this?"

"I'm telling you this because he's still in these waters. Just be careful, lass. It'd kill me if something happened to you or the boy."

"I'm not worried. The _Judas_ and the _Cutlass_ were infamous pirates. The _Deliverance_ is a respectable ship, and unless this aristocratic bastard has heard of my family's there's no way he could connect her- or me -with piracy."

"Unless someone betrays you."

Cora stiffened but said nothing.

"Like I said, lass," Finn sighed. "Be careful."

Another silence stretched out in the stifling heat of the small cabin. Jack seemed to think that more ale would make it go away, while Cora sat quietly staring at nothing.

"Forgive me," Stephen said, rising. "But I think I shall take the air on deck. I will see you back on the _Deliverance_."

"Let me come with you. I could do with a mouthful or two of clean air myself." Finn said, following him out the door.

Stephen's hackles were up as the other Irishman followed him in his search for a quiet space of the deck to claim for his own. They eased when they did find one and a breeze finally thought to stir the thick summer air, and they disappeared entirely when Finn stood beside him without saying anything, content to have a bit of peace himself.

Of course, he hit him with a full broadside when he was done with peace.

"So, I'll bet you're the man we heard so much about. Dominic's father."

"...yes."

"It's good to meet you at last. It drove _me_ mad wanting to know who could drive _her_ so mad. Ye should've seen her just after you left, when she was pregnant. She's never been a very happy girl, but I thought she might never be happy again when I saw her in Port Royal the spring of 1806." He stretched languorously, never realizing how tense he'd just made the man beside him.

"She's a good girl, Cora." He continued with a soft sigh followed by a chuckle. "To tell you the truth, boy-o, I always thought I'd be the one to marry her."

Stephen stiffened and turned to face him for the first time.

"We aren't married, Mr. Walsh."

"I know," He smiled, leaning on the railing and looking out over the dark water. "I know."

All at once Finn was placed in Stephen's mind- Finn Walsh, the boy who gave Cora her first kiss, the boy she took twelve lashes for, the boy she'd never been able to love. Stunned, Stephen barely took his leave of him before he found a group of sailors from the _Deliverance _just climbing into a longboat to head back to their ship, having enjoyed a game of cards with the crew of the _Limerick_. He joined them and waited for a while on the other side to see if the others would come over soon. They didn't.

He slept lightly, woken easily by the slightest shifts in the ship and the noises around him. He was just dangling over the cliff of full unconsciousness and wishing for his laudanum when he heard the hull resound with three sharp knocks.

He sat up and listened to see if the deck above him came alive with the noise, but nothing happened. A few moments later three more knocks resounded, a little closer to him. They sounded like they were coming from outside the ship. Hardly bothering to dress, he went on deck to see what had happened. What he saw when he looked over the railing was hardly what he'd expected.

"Are you quite alright, Cora?"

"I didn't feel like taking the barge back." She smiled up at him from the water, fully clothed. "It's nice to hear your voice again. You've been so quiet all day."

"I apologize." He said at last. "Was it you that knocked on the hull moments ago?"

She nodded. "Will you come down to me? The barge is still here. You don't have to get in."

"Very well."

Then he was sitting on the barge beside her, his breeches rolled up so that he could leave his feet in the blood-warm water. She dove down to swim and meet him and he watched her move like a ghost through it. The studdingsail she'd ordered put over the side billowed lazily beneath her, a surreal backdrop as she came up from the water and took a breath. He almost wished he'd stayed on the _Deliverance_, because from the railing it was so much easier to pretend he didn't notice how her linen top clung to every part of her body and that her dark hair was let down.

"Did you read the note I sent with your breakfast?" She asked when she was beside him at last. He shook his head. "Stephen, I understand that you're angry with me. I understand that I hurt you deeply, but I need to know that you won't be angry forever. We only have two weeks, Stephen. Two weeks. There's no time for anger."

Stephen took a deep breath and looked at his hands. Her own were on the barge beside him, keeping her steady. It was hard not to take one and hold it.

"I am angry that you kept a secret of this magnitude from me for seven years. I'm not certain that I can say I forgive you- not yet at least. But I can say that I understand the reasons for your actions and I don't expect you to apologize for them."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then smiled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He felt himself begin to smile too. She began to pull herself up onto the barge- he held out a hand to steady her and another to keep himself from falling in. Soon enough she sat beside him, her feet remaining in the water close to his.

"I love seeing the two of you sitting together, bent over your books." She said after a moment when her breathing had slowed. "Although for all love I have no idea what you're talking about."

They both smiled a little wider. Then Cora's smile dimmed, and she looked away. A curtain of dark, wet hair fell on one side of her face; the other was lit by the lanterns on the ship above them.

"And if that's all you can give to us right now, I'll take it. I'll take it gladly."

Stephen waited again to speak, and made sure she met his eyes when he did.

"I asked you once if your course was to deceive me, and you said you hadn't got your course yet, but once you did I'd be the first to know. I tell you now, Cora, that I don't know how much I have inside of me to give. But when I do, you'll be the first to know."

Her smile returned.

"I'll hold you to that."

"By all means, do. Good night, Cora."

"Good night, Stephen."

He climbed back over the side of the _Deliverance_ and was just about to return to the orlop when he heard a soft splash. He turned and saw Cora slide into the sea like a selkie returning home. He watched her drift on her back, utterly at peace, and his mind was still full of the image when he drifted back down to his hammock and found his own peace at last.

------------------------------

A/N-- Aww, no more angst! But of course, a sort of happy ending means I have to be up to something dastardly in the next chapter. I wonder what it is. Guess you'll find out soon! Thanks to **silverwolf of the night** and **Oriana8** for their reviews.


	6. The Tempest

Chapter Six  
The Tempest  
_in which mettle is tested_

The next day held none of the certainty the night before had. The sea rolled uncertainly under the _Deliverance_, so strangely that even Jack found it hard to ascend the ladders leading to the deck. Stephen himself was as unsteady as a landlubber fresh from the gaol and clung to the rail even when they reached it.

"We've got a wicked cross-sea beneath us," Jack remarked, looking down at the churning waters.

The thin, piercing shriek of gulls flying above filled their silence. The crew seemed just as uneasy as the sea around them, speaking in low murmurs and looking to the wind that filled their sails every second or so. It was just as indeterminate as the sky above them, sometimes straining the stays and other times dying away to a whisper. It had just died away when the cannon roared; a ball shot through the air at their ship and neatly decapitated the figurehead. Everyone shook their heads at the jeers from the _Limerick_, which they heard despite the distance that had grown between them in the night.

"This ain't the day to be fooling around like that, mark my words." Gibbs muttered, standing at the rail close to Jack and Stephen. "Someone find the captain. It's time to get this piece of godforsaken bark moving somewhere. Preferably away from here and that twice-cursed son of a twice-cursed whore. Poxed, the both of 'em."

"Just because you're insecure about your own parentage doesn't mean you have to press it onto others, Joshamee Gibbs." Anamaria said blithely as she approached. Meanwhile, a few more guns went off on the _Limerick_, their shots landing dancing close to the _Deliverance_. "Although sometimes I do think that boy is cursed with Jack's ailment- he's more crazy when he's sober than when he's drunk. He's probably just a little too sober after last night's party. Captain, the _Limerick_ is signaling." The last phrase was drawn out in a sarcastic drawl.

By the time Jack remembered that they were referring to Jack Sparrow and not to himself, Cora was also at their side. Stephen had taken Jack's glass from where it rested in the pocket of his coat and trained it on the _Limerick_, making out the face of a rather maniacal Finn standing on the rail waving his ridiculous hat. He was about to snap it shut when he felt her presence at his side, but she took it from him before he could. What followed was a series of very complicated gestures that they could only barely make out from where they stood.

"Why don't he just use signal flags?" Jack asked.

"I have only the vaguest knowledge of them myself," Cora replied without moving her eye from the glass. "And I doubt Finn knows them at all. It always makes it more interesting when we have to communicate this way."

"If I may offer my opinion, it seemed when I had my eye on him that he was attempting to ask where we were going." Stephen said.

Cora straightened very slowly to look him in the eye, a very faint, sly smile on her face. She slid the glass slowly closed.

"Really, now? And are you very good at reading signs, Doctor Maturin?"

"I am. And I, for my part, know that whiskey means that someone requires medical assistance." (1)

Gibbs immediately started to laugh at this, and Anamaria soon after that.

"Why, that was very nearly a pun, Stephen!" Jack howled. "I didn't think you had it in you- and a naval pun too! Oh, how that warms my heart. To think that I've taught you something at last after so many years of friendship!"

Stephen, for his part, looked back and forth between them with a look of utter loss on his face, uncertain of what he'd done. Cora was the only person near him not laughing. That sly, quiet smile remained on her face.

"You really are quite adorable when you do not realize it, Stephen." She smiled, passing by him. As she went, she pushed the glass back up against his chest and continued to walk away, her hand trailing across him. He caught the glass and looked over his shoulder in time to see her give the order to raise the anchor and get back on course for Alameade. Finn would just have to follow them on his own.

"I didn't think she had it in her." Anamaria uttered at his side.

"What is your meaning?" Stephen asked.

"The ability to play the coquette. Her mother flirted with anything that had legs from the time she was fourteen all the way until she turned eighteen. Gave all of us a run for our money more than once."

"What happened when she turned eighteen?"

"She was raped." Anamaria said nonchalantly. Before they could continue the conversation, she too walked away.

Stephen watched her leave and then let his eyes wander to Cora, who'd gone to the helm. Dominic stood there with her, on his famed box, his hands on the helm and an expression of sublime delight. He was completely unaware that his mother's hands were on the wheel below his, keeping them steady. He found himself smiling.

"What do you think of the lad, Stephen?" Jack asked softly at his side as the ship slid into motion on the choppy seas. Stephen watched them churn beneath them in the greyish light, searching for an answer.

"I've never desired children of my own- I desired the very opposite. I did not wish to compound the miseries of the world by adding more people to it."

"And now?"

Stephen was silent for a very long time. The sea held no answer for him this time.

"You have no need to fear honesty where I'm concerned, my dear. I'm not even the ship's captain here. I am simply a very old friend."

"I speak with the sincerest honesty, Jack, when I say that I don't know what I think now. That boy could bring no misery to this world- only light. I wish to God there was some way I could've known before Cora left that she was with child."

This last was uttered with even more complete honesty; it surprised himself. Babies especially seemed the most miserable of people, with their squalling and odor and utter disregard for the comfort of everyone around them. Now he found himself wishing he'd been there to see Dominic when he was first born, when he first began to speak. He could've taught him Catalan then- it would be such a comfort to speak with his own son of the land he so loved.

It wasn't too late, he realized with a jolt. Dominic was still young. Every meeting they had proved his quick mind. Later in the day even he could start to teach him. But then he realized with an even more painful jolt that he had only two weeks with him, and that to begin and leave them both hanging would be crueler than never to begin at all.

"You could still marry her, Stephen." Jack said, as if reading his mind. But the word 'marry' brought a sudden image of Diana before Stephen's mental eye, and then directly after one of Finn Walsh. Cora said she'd been unable to love him once- but that was then. She seemed terribly comfortable around him the night before.

"I'm caught by the lee, ain't I, Stephen? I'm most dreadfully sorry. I had no business saying such a thing. I wish only for your happiness." Jack said anxiously, seeing the sudden fear overtake Stephen's face.

"Never worry, joy." Stephen regained his composure with frightening ease. "It was no fault of your own. The thought is no stranger to my own head. It would be the proper thing to do, wouldn't it? I would've felt it my duty the moment Cora told me if she hadn't said in the same breath that she hesitated to tell me because she feared that it would force us into a marriage of obligation."

"Perhaps you ought not propose it as a marriage of obligation, then."

It was the most delicate Stephen had ever heard Jack speak. He was stunned once more, but before his composure could slip to reveal it they heard another gun from behind them, calling their attention to the _Limerick_ once more. The sloop was a considerable distance behind the faster frigate, but her position had allowed her to sight the sail first.

Someone else took the helm and Gibbs took Dominic away as Cora and Anamaria went to the rail once more, their own glasses out now. The _Limerick_ fired once more, this time in the direction of the sails. _Chase?_ The cannonball seemed to ask.

"We have no idea who it is. I don't feel safe," were Cora's first words.

"We can't find out who she is unless we sail closer. We need the money, Captain." Anamaria's voice dropped.

"We can't just go chasing after any ship we want anymore, Anamaria. This is a respectable ship, not-" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"Say it." Anamaria fairly growled. "Say it."

"It's not a pirate ship."

"Of course it isn't!" An angry voice called from nearby. A sailor had stopped in his swabbing to stare with hatred at his captain. "Most of us have been loyal to your family all your life or longer, and you're so ashamed of us you can't wait to stop being our captain. Now you won't even let us fill our purse a little before you go!"

The deck was silent now. The _Limerick_ fired once more; the sails were fading away. Whoever that ship was, she'd seen them and spooked. Fleeing before she knew who they were could mean only one thing in their minds- she had something valuable aboard. Cora had no time to respond to the irate sailor.

"Give the order, Captain." Anamaria said stiffly. "Are we to chase, or are we not?"

For a moment it seemed she might stand firm. Then she saw the looks of accusation on everyone aboard and heard the final gun from the _Limerick_ as her course altered and she began to turn towards the fleeing white squares.

"Match our course to the _Limerick_'s. Come up alongside her and remain at least half a mile apart. Spread all the canvas you can manage. Rouse up the off-watch."

She left just as the orders were being carried out. Every eye followed her into the great cabin and lingered until Gibbs threatened to tear out every one of them that remained there a second longer.

----------------------------

Weathered paper and familiar places and every haunting memory that accompanied them were Cora's companions in the cabin. Her compass traced the path again and again. Port Royal to Normandy to Alameade and back again. There should've been no turning from it. Yet she gave the order. She went over the route just once more, the compass falling into the same set of weary holes every time, as if doing so could force her back on track. Then the dreaded knock sounded.

She let the compass fall and covered her face with her hands, searching for the mask that kept her safe. It was paper-thin today. Anyone who knew her well enough to know it was there could tear it away with a flick of their wrist.

"Come in," She said at last, rising.

Her trepidation eased with shock when she saw who it was that came to her door. Jack Aubrey was the last person she'd expected. Anamaria she'd feared, Stephen she'd hoped for. But Jack?

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"I wouldn't have asked you to come in if you were. Would you care to take a seat?"

"No, thank you." He sighed. "Well, I suppose there's nothing to do but come right to the point of it. Miss Turner, if you disliked this course of action then why did you allow your crew to persuade you to take it."

"I feared angering them. The rest of our voyage would be rather uncomfortable if they resented me."

"The rest of our voyage will be much more dangerous if they think that they can bend their captain to their rule."

"Should I call off the chase?"

"I can't answer that for you. You are the captain, not I. And it is not a privilege that is to be thrust away with both hands. I would give my eye teeth to be a captain again."

"I suppose I've rather degraded the post," Cora mused bitterly. "You should've seen my mother when she was captain. She was Lady Macbeth incarnate. _Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here_. She may as well have said that when my grandfather turned the Running over to her. She had no fear, no indecision."

"I know for certain that you didn't take entirely after the pirate I briefly knew, but her blood runs in your veins. Stephen has spoken to me before of your decisiveness. Why does it not apply here?"

"Because I was never meant to be captain." Her voice went low with rage. "I was the eldest but I was never good enough. My mother knew I lacked the killer instinct she prized so dearly. She made it well known that she would pass her post onto Ashli, even though I was the better sailor, I was the one who studied navigation and worked two watches when she was too tired to do either. Make no mistake, I loved- love -my little sister very dearly but this was to be hers and not mine. I was never meant for this. That hung between us for all our lives- for twenty-five years."

"It doesn't matter if your mother thought you weren't meant for it. What matters is that you are a captain now, and you must take up that burden or put us all in danger regardless of that fear."

Cora stood frozen by her desk, one hand on the map of the only place she'd ever known to keep her from losing touch with the world entirely. She wasn't really conscious of the decision to listen to what Jack had told her. Her head was blissfully empty between her desk and the door. Then she was out on the deck and everything came crashing down on her at once.

The ship was writhing with action and Anamaria was steps away from the cabin door. Cora didn't stop to listen what she had to stay; instead she went to the bow where several sailors were looking to the ship that wasn't so distant from them after all. She was much larger than they'd expected, a frigate with a rather alarming array of guns on her deck.

"Can you read her name?" She asked.

"Just about." One sailor said.

A breathless moment; they drew closer. Cora's hands were damp with sweat on the rail.

"By God," The sailor uttered. "It's the ship we heard about on the _Limerick_. The _Fraternité_. She's lured us straight into a trap."

Cora's heart stopped. Jack's warning had been too late.

_Almost._

"Turn us straight about. Someone fire a gun in Finn's direction. We need to get the hell out of here."

"I don't know if we can turn with this wind. We might miss stays, captain." Gibbs called.

"I don't care how we get around, just get us around."

"We have more guns than she does. We can take her and stop her from killing any more pirates!"

"We might have seventy-four guns but we can barely crew over half of them, Anamaria."

"But with the _Limerick_ too-"

"My _orders_ are to turn around and proceed with all due haste away from the _Fraternité._"

Both woman froze, startled not by the volume of Cora's voice but by the insistent authority in it. Then a smile opened on Anamaria's face like a flower that blooms only at night when no one else may see its beauty.

"Aye, Captain."

The orders were given. The _Deliverance_ turned and while the stays screeched at the strain, the wind held true. Halfway through a gun went off, calling the _Limerick_ from her position far ahead to turn with them. He was in no hurry to stay either.

The chase wore on with the same silent tension singular to every chase in history. The deck was cleared, the sails were set, and now all they could do was sit and watch the distant ghost in the mist and pray that she disappeared and didn't grow any closer. Unfortunately, God wasn't listening that day.

The first gunfire was far astern of them, where the _Limerick_ struggled to keep their pace. Every head swiveled to watch with anguish as their fellows fought to keep the privateer nipping at their heels from taking the foot off entirely. Cora watched from the stern, Dominic standing before her and clutching to her hand. He was oddly solemn, as though he recognized what was happening.

"Set us on a course for the Isle, Gibbs." Cora said quietly after a moment.

"What?" The sailor's voice was harsh with what may have been anger. "Are you mad?"

"We know those waters, Gibbs. The _Fraternité_ doesn't. We can lose her either in the fog or on the shoals."

Gibbs struggled for a moment with the urge to argue, then gave the orders and set the course. The moment he did, every man's anxiety at the chase turned to solemn fear.

Jack had remained on deck when Stephen went to his orlop, anticipating a fight, and when he saw the sudden tension he approached Gibbs at the helm.

"Where have we set our course for?"

"The Forgotten Isle. She's daft to do it, but anyone who grew up around Jack Sparrow is like as not to come out a bit mad. If you believe such things, it is an island shrouded by eternal mist and jagged rocks and the strongest currents that ever sucked a soul down to give Davy Jones the time of day. It is the home of all the souls ever lost to the Caribbean Sea. There they wander in torment and hatred- if you believe such things."

Jack decided he didn't believe these things and settled himself at the taffrail to watch the chase, confident that the course Cora had chosen was the best and giving himself no small praise for goading her onto it. His internal praise slackened somewhat when the wind worsened and the swells got deeper. It began to fade even more when the rain started. He had no time for thought at all when the storm broke in full over them after days of uncertain seas and breathy winds.

The rise and fall of the sea threw them from side to side, crashed over the deck and cracked the mizenmast. They lost two men in the first hour. Stephen declared the leg of another lost before two hours past. The _Limerick_ they'd lost sight of shortly before the storm was unleashed, but the _Fraternité_ remained a grey specter behind them.

"We need to sail around," Anamaria shouted when Cora and two other sailors latched themselves to the helm, holding them to their course. "We can't go straight through this storm!"

"It'll break on the other side of the Isle. This is the fastest way."

"Even if you don't believe the stories about the Isle, Cora, you know what those rocks are like. This is madness. We must sail around!"

"We will hold our course. Trust me, Anamaria."

And hold their course they did, despite every querying look. Cora clung to the wheel like a lifeline, her eyes fixed determinedly ahead even when others looked back to see the _Fraternité_ behind them. She didn't notice when it began to fade.

True to Anamaria's prediction, rocks flashed on their sides, appearing without warning out of the mist. One raked them stem to stern, taking out a chunk of the starboard rail, but it was the worst damage they suffered. Not long after that the sea seemed a little calmer, the mist a little thinner, the rain a little less vengeful. No one dared to say it, but many thought they could see the patches of blue sky up ahead.

The _Deliverance_ slowed as the wind died down, her tattered sails sighing and releasing their burden. Already there were orders to repair the sails and get men to the pumps. The last place where the tension released on the ship was the helm, which resisted their course for some time more. Then one of the sailors was able to slip away, leaving Cora and another. This sailor glanced at her for permission; she granted it. She leaned back and dared to close her eyes for a moment before she sensed the presence of her first mate.

"Do you know where we are, Anamaria?"

"Aye, Captain. Well enough."

"Good. Bring us home."

She glanced behind herself for the first time, saw nothing but wide horizon, and collapsed to the deck in utter exhaustion and no small dose of relief.

--------------------------

A/N-- Well, they made it through the storm! But what of our French friend, the _Fraternité_? And where did Finn get to? Find out in the next chapter!

Thanks to **silverwolf of the night** and **FuchsiaII** for their kind reviews.

(1) For those who've forgotten, the flag Whiskey signals 'requesting medical assistance.' Stephen saw this flag flown on_ the Lone Star Running_ when Cora was injured (_Chapter 11: The Pursuit of Happiness_ in _Saltwater for Tears_). His strange phrasing of this fact is almost a pun- shock of all shocks! He must be hanging around Jack too much.


	7. The House on the Hill

A/N-- This chapter is a bit rated-Mish. I'd say it's even less so than _Saltwater for Tears_. Nonetheless: ye be warned, all ye who read here.

I would like to dedicate this to Katze, for teaching me part of the dance mentioned in this chapter. I may have been screaming the whole time, but I still loved it.  
-----------------------

Chapter Seven  
The House on the Hill  
_in which a bottle is broken_

The sunlight had stained the sea a rich bronze by the time their anchor lowered and the men let out a resounding cheer at the sight of the green island before them. It had been easier to spot than Normandy; it rose up out of the sea in what seemed to be half of a mountain's peak.

"Do you see that house, Dominic?" Cora had asked her son when his spyglass was trained on it. "Up on the hill there?"

"Yes, Momma."

"That's home, love. That's home."

"Does your family have a strong desire to build in high places?" Jack asked, remembering the Turner's mansion in Port Royal.

"It must be coincidence. This was built by the Starre side of the family about fifteen years before I was born."

"Are we going to live there now, Momma?" Dominic asked, putting down his spyglass in favor of picking up Viola. The wolf pup gave a sleepy whine when he disturbed her, then fell back asleep on his shoulder.

"Yes. We are."

The crew didn't react as they had before, perhaps because most of them were too far away celebrating. Yet even Anamaria's eyes held no trace of resentment, and she stood right beside her. When the _Deliverance_ ground to a halt, Cora gathered up all the celebrants in a rough bunch before her on deck.

"It's good to be home, isn't it?" She asked them. The following 'aye' echoed far out over the sea. "Good, because I'm glad to be rid of you!" Laughter. "I know we missed Midsummer because of that storm, but that doesn't mean we still can't have a party to celebrate it. I don't want to see any of you for the next two hours, but then come up to the Starre mansion and we'll break this place in all over again!"

More shouts and cheering, and then they were organized into groups to get onto their boats and head for shore. Cora, Dominic, Jack and Stephen were the first to head over to even louder cheers, more poignant and fitting than the solemn twittering of a bosun's pipe had ever been. Once the greater part of their things were on shore with them (and Dominic had stopped trying to run off in four different directions at once) they set off in the direction of the steep hill at the island's northern end.

"There was nothing here but jungle when my grandparents arrived," She explained as they climbed. There were no trees to shade them as they walked and the slanting light pierced their eyes, destroying their vision, so their only link to the world was her voice. "Then once they'd established themselves, they began inviting some of the poorest folk from other islands to come and live here. The town grew quite fast and they've always looked to my family as their protectors. We left a steward in charge when we left here in '99. We haven't been back for very long since, but I've been in contact with him. His name is Jonas Sewell. He's looked after my family's fortune and kept collecting our harbor duties. I'll divide most of the money we've made in past thirteen years and give it to the crew in thanks. I don't need too much to live on."

"Do you mean to say that your family owns this island?"

"Essentially, yes. Believe me," They could hear her rueful smile. "I know that one day France or England or Spain or even the United States will come here and claim us. But for now I think the world has larger problems than a tiny island with minimal farmland and a few hundred peasants. For now, this is ours."

They reached the crest of the hill at last and found themselves in the grateful shade of the mansion. It wasn't a particularly imposing building, not like the Turner's house; but it was just as beautiful and just as ageless, a simply two story house with a verandah that wrapped all around it. They left their things on this verandah and while the men (and the boy) stopped to catch their breath Cora walked the length of it until she stood on the other side of the house. After a moment, Stephen followed.

What he saw was Cora leaning on the rail, framed against the copper sea. A large, grassy shelf extended for some distance behind the house- the site of the party -but beyond that there was nothing but sunset and sea. He could see some scrub and rocks at the edge of the cliff, and a thin overgrown trail that must've led down it. To their left the flat, grassy area continued. A large shade tree protected it from the heat, and in the shadows were three tombstones, one with a marble angel and a baby on her hip, the one beside it a young man shading his eyes, looking out over the horizon, and the third a simple granite block.

"What's left of my family is there." Cora said. "This is the closest I've been to home in seven years."

Seven and not thirteen. A vision of the ship her family destroyed to keep it from the Navy's hands forever flickered in and out of both their heads. That had been home.

They soon moved inside the house where they were greeted by a neat elderly man they assumed must be Jonas. He embraced Cora and spoke with such cordiality that they were stunned when he turned to walk away and they heard the thump of his wooden leg against the wood floors; it seemed so rough compared to the rest of him.

"Was you a sailor, sir?" Jack asked.

"A lieutenant, sir. I lost my leg in battle and I was discharged shortly thereafter."

"Surely not because of the leg! You ought to be commended for your valiant service."

"No, sir, not for the leg. Because they found myself and the first lieutenant together in the sick-bay." Too much of a gentleman to let the strain in the party grow, Jonas excused himself and told Cora he'd have the accounts waiting for her perusal when she was ready.

"Where's my room, Momma? Will I still be able to see the ocean from it?" Dominic asked urgently when he was gone.

"I've already picked out your room. You'll see it in just a moment- my uncles used to live in it."

"Are there pictures of them here?"

Cora's smile softened and saddened. "Yes, I daresay there are. Come and I'll show them to you."

On the right side of the breezy entryway with its parquet floor was a broad staircase. At the top was a long hallway with wooden floors, as reminiscent of a ship as the scent that permeated them. The windows were closed, but the smell of the sea was all around them. A series of doors went down the length of the hall, and between them were the promised pictures. Dominic went instantly to the first one, directly to their left- a young couple, the man tall and smiling with long gold hair, the woman strangely familiar.

"She looks just like you, Momma." Dominic said in wonder.

"That's my grandmother, the one your grandmother named me for. For the last three generations I suppose we've looked much the same."

He bounded along to the next one, across the hall this time, the adults following slowly in his wake. This portrait was of a boy in his adolescence who looked much like the man from before but for his quiet eyes. A younger boy was beside him, with dark hair and grey eyes and a brighter smile. They each had a hand on the shoulder of the small girl between them, an image of her painted mother and of the living daughter standing beside them now.

"Those are your great-uncles, Nathaniel and James. And that is your grandmother. Arlen." The first name was spoken easily- he was a man she'd never known, dead long before she took her first breath. The hesitance in the last two names reflected deaths that were all too recent. Stephen remembered the golden haired man who'd carried her aboard the Surprise near to death all those months ago as well as Cora did. The other woman they tried to forget.

There was only one more painting left, hanging on the wall beside the room furthest away from them. Dominic approached this one slowly. They all did.

It was larger than the others, with a more ornate frame. The light from the nearby window had muted some of the colors on the dresses; what was once royal blue was now cyan, red had rolled over to lay closer to pink, and grey-blue looked like dove gray. Two of the men wore simple brown suits, unaffected by the light, while the third and oldest- the man from the first painting -wore a green cape and cream shirt, and an enormous green hat. The other man was the boy from the second picture. The third may've been the twin of William and Matthew Turner.

He stood beside Arlen Starre- by then Arlen Turner -whose eyes met the viewers with the sort of directness she had in life. Sitting on a chair to their right was a younger woman with her father's dark eyes and brown hair with the occasional streak of gold. Beside her-

"Momma?" Dominic's voice was startling in the near silence. "Is that you?"

"Yes, darling. When I was nineteen. And those are your grandparents, Michael and Arlen. And that is your Aunt Ashli."

"Are they all dead?"

"Everyone but Ashli and I."

"Why haven't I met her?"

"Just before you were born, Aunt Ashli and I had a fight. I haven't seen her since."

"I wish I could've met them."

"So do I, love. Come, let's go and see your room."

Cora led Dominic to the first door from the stairs and he rushed in with abandon, already deciding where everything would go and declaring the view even better than Port Royal's. She left him safely assured of his happiness, and not so certain of her own.

"There are a pair of rooms here I had in mind for you- we kept them for Jack and Hank whenever they came to visit." She said when she returned to Jack and Stephen. "You can decide between yourselves who wants to stay where. I'll be in my old room."

Jack chose the room farthest down the hall and made Cora smile a little sadly- that was the room Jack Sparrow had always stayed in. He saw the flicker of sorrow in her eyes and offered to choose the other, but she refused to let him. They were silent when they went to retrieve their chests and when they disappeared into their respective rooms. Stephen's lay across the room from Jack's and it was immediately to his liking; austere, if not outright Spartan. It was a bed, a washstand, an armoire, a worn black rug and not much else. The window looked out over the hill and the town and harbor below them, and after he set down his sea chest he watched them dancing on the waves. Then he drifted out once more in the direction of the hall and the room across from his- Cora's room.

Before he got there he heard the strains of a Boccherini concerto coming from nearby. It was a little out of tune and a little hoarse for want of rosin, but his hands ached suddenly for his 'cello's strings. He was drumming the fingerings on his thigh when Jack appeared from his room, an ancient violin on his shoulder and its bow in his hand. He abruptly accelerated the last few lines and finished just as Cora appeared from her own room, frowning slightly.

"Where did you find that?" She asked as Jack approached.

"In my room. Forgive me, I was with child to play. Our instruments are back on the _Renown_."

"No, it's quite all right. I haven't touched that violin in thirteen years. I was playing by the window, waiting for the _Black Pearl_ to come into port. When I saw her sails I dropped it there and... well, with everything that happened after I never went back for it."

"Should you like to try and-?"

"No, I would only insult the instrument. I haven't played _any_ violin in thirteen years, actually. You may play it as much as you like."

Jack set off on Vivaldi now and made Cora smile. Dominic peered from around his room and when he saw the violin he rushed to Jack's side and bombarded him with requests. Cora and Stephen withdrew and watched as Jack attempted to play each song Dominic named- the trouble was that after the first few bars the little boy would lose interest and immediately choose another song. He finally settled for listening to an adagio from a Mozart symphony he'd never heard before, and as they listened Cora shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms.

"Is something the matter?" Stephen asked.

"There are so many ghosts in this house. I thought it would be easy to come home."

Without thinking he rested his hand on her back, drawing her close enough so that she could lay her head on his shoulder and close her eyes. His hand brushed up and down her spine so lightly it seemed more to move the hairs on her back than to really touch her. They would've remained like that forever, Dominic on the floor at Jack's feet, Jack lost in concentration, at one with the violin, if they hadn't heard the sudden shout from below them.

"Oi, Cora! What was the idea behind leaving me alone out there all on my own during that storm?"

Cora was gone before Stephen even stopped feeling her warmth at his side, shooting down the stairs and leaping onto Finn where he stood with his trademark grin on his face.

"I was so worried for you!"

"Not as worried as ye must've thought, if ye didn't even come back for me."

"Finn, you vex me. You've only been here for a minute and I already feel like sending you away."

"I was teasing you, lass. You're too easily vexed is your problem. Especially with men. All that matters is that I'm here now, and what would a party be like without me and my crew? Eh? Who's playing the violin?"

They came up the stairs with their arms around each other's waist, and jealousy flashed through Stephen so fast he couldn't identify it right away. It wasn't until they stood off to the side for some time like that and the flame attained a slow, burning heat that he realized he wanted nothing more than to walk over and tear Cora away from him.

Jack's song faded away soon to enthusiastic applause from Dominic and congratulations from the adults. He attributed all of it to the violin he played- aged so fine, such a mellow sound to it, never heard a G-string quite like this one before, wherever did you find it? Finn waited for a lull in the conversation to speak.

"Well, we can't all be standin' around here waiting for Judgment Day. We need to get started on this party!"

"We have a few hours-"

"-an' we used to spend all day on it. Why don't you go and start cooking for us, Cora? My men are starving as it is."

"You and I both know what my cooking tastes like, which is exactly why Gibbs is already down in the kitchen. What I need help with is the decorating. I thought we might look for the decorations we used at Midsummer back in '95..."

They went back down the stairs, Dominic in their wake like a small moon, reliving a long ago party ten years before Stephen was even aware of Cora's existence. Jack went back into his room to put the violin away, and Stephen was alone with the breeze until he returned.

"Ain't you coming, Stephen?"

"Yes. I suppose I should." He said, and followed him downstairs.

--------------------

Evening, and now the water was stained purple and red by the sunset. The house on the hill was swathed in the light of candles and lanterns that lined a path to the three pavilions they'd raised behind it. A steady flow of people surrounded the house, going in and out and lying on the lawn before it. The scent of food surrounded all of them; the townspeople had come to join them too, bringing pies and sacrificial livestock.

Without a doubt the most action was around the last pavilion and the great wooden stage that Finn and his crew had dragged out from the basement of the house. Here was where the island's daughter held court. Some of the first townspeople who'd come to welcome her came bearing circles of flowers they'd made; she wore one now as a crown and the other as a necklace. She reclined beside the pit Gibbs had dug, where he was roasting a pair of the chickens they'd been given. She attempted to keep an eye on Dominic, but he was everywhere all at once.

There were some stiff glances between Jack and the other partygoers once word spread that he was a captain of His Majesty's Fleet, but once the first five or so kegs of rum were gone and most of the foods were out on display, no one cared anymore. He was currently regaling the story of the Acheron- right after he'd told of the Cacafuego, and his run in with a Spanish treasure fleet on the Lively -to a group of Finn's sailors. When they dispersed and he returned he was delighted to tell them of their thorough seamanship- he'd never expected it of them.

"I never know what to expect of Finn's men." Cora laughed.

"Who expects nothing of me?"

"That's not what I said, Finn."

"I know. I just thought it was a witty entrance nonetheless."

Finn sat on the blanket beside them and watched as a few men, having eaten and drank their fill, began to assemble themselves near the wooden stage they'd dragged out. They had a variety of instruments in their arms- a violin, a shepherd's pipe and a rare assortment of drums -and chattered with easy familiarity about what they'd play. Those who'd seen them stopped and waited with breathless smiles for the music to start. There was a lull as the musicians sat, looking to the violin to start them, in silence. The violinist was perfectly still, his eyes trained on something beyond their sight; then he seemed to see what he was looking for and a smile broke out across his face. He lifted his shoulder quickly, then dropped it and danced off into a cheery, airy piece.Now people began to dance on the stage and on the grass around it, mostly Finn's crew mixing with the girls from the town.

"There'll be some Irish seed spilled here tonight, mark my words." He smiled towards the end of the song as the men grew more brazen with their partners and held their bodies tight together.

"Oh, lovely. That's the last thing I need. Bastards of your crew running around my town, corrupting the populace and giving you a reason to haunt us."

"Bastard is a highly overrated term. It really isn't worth the fuss, trust me."

Cora just shook her head at Finn. The musicians had reached a pause- the drummers continued to tap away at their instruments, a lazy meditative beat -as they tried to decide on another song. They called out to Finn in Irish and he called back- Stephen's heart leapt, but the words were too fast for him to catch them in their entirety.

"Oh, I love this song!" Finn crowed as they began a jig that threatened to tear the skin from the violinist's fingers if he intended to keep the same tempo on those frenetic sixteenths for the whole time. "Don't you remember it, lass?"

"I don't think so."

"This is the song we danced to at the Faithful Bride. The one that started the brawl!"

"Oh, no. No!"

"Dance with me!"

"No!"

Her voice rose in a joyous shriek. She didn't resist Finn too much as he dragged her from her seat on the ground and towards the stage, stepping naturally into the flow of couples. Not many could keep up with the pace and as the pack thinned it was easy for Stephen to watch Cora and Finn swirling in and out. Her crown of flowers had been knocked askew and her skirt whirled out to reveal her bare feet. He'd never seen her so happy.

The music fell to pianissimo without warning and the couples stopped. The sailors rapidly began explaining the next part to their partners. Finn and Cora were close enough that Stephen could hear him.

"Do ye remember the Ceili spins, Cora?"

"No, no, no, I'm not letting you do that to me again. I thought I was going to go flying through the walls when you did it to me last time!"

"I'll never let go of ye, lass. Ye can always be sure o' that."

"Oh God..."

Then he'd taken hold of her waist and she had done the same, their other hands clasped between their bodies. Then they began to spin, slowly at first, then matching the rising speed of the drums. The primal sound filled the entire island like a living heartbeat. Cora's eyes were shut tight; Finn was laughing at her fear. Faster still- the crowds cheered as the last few couples held out. Then at last the music ceased and they stopped.

Amid the cheers and laughter, Cora swayed in Finn's steady grasp. He laughed and told her she shouldn't have closed her eyes- didn't he tell her that last time? She muttered something dire in return, and as she slumped backwards in relief he stole her into a dip. He was inches from her lips when she stood and pushed him away from her, keeping one hand on his chest.

"Finn Walsh, I won't let you take advantage of me in this state. I need to break out the bottle of rum I've been saving for this day before I can allow that," She cried, loud enough to be heard over the din. They were closer now, so that Stephen could hear Finn's answer.

"Oh, and after I've waited for so long? Ye'd drive a saint to madness, you siren!"

"I can't help it if I've got saltwater in my veins." Before she reached him, she turned and began to walk the other way with a charming unsteadiness in her gait.

"Where're ye going?"

"To get that bottle of rum. There's an entrance to the cellar over here." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the house.

"Is that an invitation to a clandestine meeting?"

_"No,_ Finn..."

The Irishman walked back towards Stephen, a smile and something else on his lips. Stephen remembered their last solitary conversation aboard the _Limerick_ and, before he knew exactly what he was doing, he was on his feet and weaving through the crowd. He followed the path Cora had taken. He had only to go straight to find the open cellar doors and a flight of stairs.

In the cellar it was damp and earthy. It smelled of mold and disuse; it was almost a dead room, like the blacksmith's shop back in Port Royal. Neat oak shelves had been built and held a wide variety of wines and rum, all very old.

It was a small cellar, a simple rectangle structure with just enough room for his head. There was no way he couldn't notice Cora standing at one end of it, or that she couldn't notice him behind her. She'd just bent down to search for the bottle in question when he entered, and straightened very slowly before she turned to face him.

"Would you like to help me find the perfect rum, Stephen? They're all a little old and a little dusty and probably a little warm, but I think that's just what I need after that dance."

"Yes. That dance. Tell me, Cora, what is Finn to you?"

Cora tensed at his accusatory tone.

"He's an old friend. I told you."

"How close a friend?"

"How dare you ask me that? The first thing I ever told you about myself was that I'm not a whore!" She hissed, walking forward rapidly so that there were only a few scant inches between them. "I thought of you every day for the past seven years and I kept myself faithful to your memory and I never expected the same of you. I would never ask you the question you just asked me." She walked back to the rack before her and bent down once more, except that now her frame was taut with anger. "Besides, I told you," She said as she wrenched a bottle free and dusted its label off with a few short jerks. "I could never love Finn."

She would've walked away then, past him, out of the dark little cellar and back up to the party and her laugher. But before she could Stephen closed the distance between them and took her face in his hands and kissed her. She resisted for a moment, pulled back to look him in the eyes. Then she smiled. And kissed him.

----------------------

Outside in the warm night air, Jack Aubrey was perspiring at an alarming rate. He eyed the crowds around the drinks and evaluated the risk of going in. Too high, he decided. The collected body heat might trigger Stephen's prophesied apoplexy. He hadn't seen his friend since he went around to the front of the house to see if that hog they were roasting was ready, as a matter of fact. He spied Finn Walsh sitting on the blanket he'd recently occupied with Cora- who was also nowhere in sight -and went to him.

"Mr. Walsh, you haven't seen my dear friend Doctor Maturin, have you? He seems to have wandered off."

"Indeed he did, just a few minutes ago. He went with Cora to see about some rum from the cellar. They should've been back, now that ye mention it."

"A drink would be just the thing! He's a very clever man, you know. I'll go and see about them myself."

Finn pointed him in the direction of the cellar and he went off in search. He had only to walk straight for a little while before he saw a pair of wide open doors and a flight of stairs, but he only went halfway down. It was from there that he could see the two figures in the tiny place, wrapped up tight in each other's embrace, not quite kissing but simply struggling to hold on to the moment of contact forever, a broken bottle forgotten at their feet.

"I think we might have to wait a while on that rum," Jack told Finn when he got back.

"Aye," The Irishman sighed. He looked away from the lights of the party and out over the wine-dark sea with a kind of sadness in his eyes. "Aye. I'd thought as much."

--------------------

Nighttime, and the sea was died the deepest black. The crest of every tiny wave was highlighted by the moon and the stars; the sky was clear in the way it only could be after a storm. The comings and goings had stopped around the house on the hill. Gibbs was just dousing the last of the lights. One of the musicians lingered near the back, leaning against the closed cellar doors. The old sailor chased him off, and he walked away tapping on his drum, disturbing the quiet night.

It was this that roused Stephen from his sleep. He tried to sit up and see out the window but the sheets were tangled hopelessly around him. Before he had a chance to make sense of the mess, a hand ran slowly up his spine to the nape of his neck and back down again.

"Don't you dare get up. He'll leave."

"I wanted to ask him what the name of the song you danced to," He murmured, but sank down beside her nonetheless. Cora moved from where she'd been lying on her stomach to settle in the cradle of his arms.

"I think it's called the Wealthy Widow. Si Do Mhaimeo i." She stumbled sleepily over the Irish words, then found a more comfortable hollow in his neck for her forehead to rest on.

He traced her spine now, as he had when they stood listening to Jack play, remembering his decision to name it the most erotic part of her. When they found their way to her house and the bedroom her parents had once shared she stood by the window to undress, and for an instant as she turned away to leave her clothes on the dresser the whole of her was outlined in silver and black with her spine as the divide. She looked like a mirror image of the sea he could just glimpse beside her. He was barely undressed but he went to her anyway and pulled her flush against him and kissed her neck and felt the weight of seven years of longing settle low and hot in his belly.

"It was an unusually happy song for its subject. Widows tend to be a sad lot." He remarked as she rolled him over so she was on top of him. She kissed his temple and kicked the sheets off of him at last as she answered.

"This widow was wealthy. She had the big house her husband left behind and all of his happy memories, but none of his little faults. Oh, and none of his authority to trap her."

Stephen chuckled low in his throat as she slid down his body to let her lips explore his shoulders. One hand ran endlessly over his flank and his bony hip with an almost proprietary air.

"I forgot to welcome you back home earlier today." He said breathily when her hand slid lower. Her only response was a soft animal sound and another kiss. He always felt like he was kissing the ocean when he kissed her- like he was drowning.

Later, after she dragged him down into the depths with the roll of her hips and her nails in his skin, she pulled him back into the light and kissed the marks she'd made. They drifted back towards sleep, and just before Stephen disappeared she whispered in his ear:

"Welcome home."

---------------------

A/N-- You know, I thought Dominic's example would teach them. But apparently they haven't learned. --sigh--

By the by, the Wealthy Widow is a real song. I changed it a bit to fit the story (there is no drum solo) but if you'd like to listen to it check out the CD _Celtic Woman_. I was absolutely addicted to it while I wrote this chapter.

Reviews make the world go round...


	8. Equilibrium

A/N-- Wow, this is a really, really long chapter. My apologies to those with short attention spans. 

There is talk of money in this chapter. It's probably not very accurate- I'm completely guessing as to what would be considered wealthy at the time, mainly by watching _Pride and Prejudice_ and rereading _HMS Surprise_. Just thought I'd warn you...

This chapter is dedicated to my violin- I neglect her for a third of the year and she still plays as beautifully as ever when I do set the bow to the string. I wish I knew more people as forgiving as she is.

--------------------------  
Chapter Eight  
Equilibrium  
_in which peace is found and shattered_

Stephen woke alone with the sun warm on his body. He floated in a haze, trying to remember when Cora had left him and why he'd woken. The first he had no answer for- the second made itself apparent with time.

"Stephen! Where have you gotten to?" Jack's booming sea voice sounded rather close.

"In here, Jack." Stephen called back, struggling to open his eyes and forcing himself to sit up. He didn't bother rearranging the sheets to hide himself more before Jack found his way in at last.

"Whatever are you doing in here, my dear?" He was asking when he came in. That answer made itself apparent too. Jack flushed a bit under Stephen's apathetic gaze and nearly stammered his next sentence out. "I told some of the lads at the party last night that you played the 'cello most excellently. They wanted us to give them a bit of a concert some time before we left, so they hunted down a 'cello for you. I brought it to your room, but..."

"Yes, well. As in our last meeting I imagine there are very few people who don't know what happened." He felt vaguely disconcerted by the notion and a shadow of the feeling crossed his face. "I should be beyond this adolescent urge. I'm getting too old for this sort of tryst."

"Don't be upset, soul," Jack said. "You love her, and that's that. Although I must admit it is rather amusing to think of you as the captain's boy, ha ha."

"If you're going to utter such terrible and tasteless jokes as that in my presence, I suggest very strongly that you go and find me some coffee. _Directly_."

Jack was still laughing when he walked away, and to prevent anymore comments of the like he made sure he was dressed before his friend returned with the coffee and some breakfast. He felt a little less like strangling him after he'd cleared the tray.

"Have you seen Cora?" He asked when he was done.

"No, I haven't. I imagine she has a great deal to do after so long an absence."

"Indeed. And Dominic?"

"He went with Anamaria to the docks to see the _Limerick_ and the _Deliverance_ refitted, I believe. It's just the two of us. Should you like to play, old soul?"

They went back to Jack's airy seaside room and played and played until they were lost in all the sounds and the smell of the nearby sea.

------------------

When Cora neared the top of the cliff behind her house she looked back down into the beach below her. She'd been unable to find what she was looking for when she left Stephen's warmth and his faint, endearing snores to pace across its small length. She couldn't escape the feeling that had tormented her since she woke- that she hadn't quite come home yet.

She stood amid the flotsam and jetsam of the party and gazed up at the house. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint and the verandah repairs. She was so engrossed in finding what was amiss with it, what caused this feeling inside her, that she didn't notice the deep groan of the cello until it staggered and cut off. A low, questioning voice and a curse- the bow had caught on the string.

She walked in the back door smiling to herself and was heading in the direction of the stairway, intending to sit outside Jack's room and enjoy the concert unseen, when she heard a familiar thump coming towards her.

"Beg pardon, Miss Turner." Jonas sounded uneasy. "I know yesterday was quite busy and I'm sure you're very glad to be home, but I'm afraid I must show you the accounts now."

"I have no worries, Jonas. I'm certain you've kept everything in order."

"I was certain that I had too."

Her pace quickened and she reached the library before he did. The room was never very large but her fast pulse made it seem even closer, like she was in danger of grazing her head on the ceiling. An old desk, made of the planking from a ship the Running had caught once and from a pair of her own broken spars, took up most of the space. The leather bound legers were spread across it, their cream pages filled with Jonas's neat, cramped script.

"When was the last time you knew the state of your family's accounts?" Jonas asked, closing the door behind them.

"Right after Dominic was born you responded to my letter saying that everything was under control here. You didn't want to give me an exact number because you were still reckoning all our possessions, but you said that my family's fortune was larger than my parents had let on."

"And I never sent you any exact number afterwards?"

"Not in my memory."

"That's just as well. I don't want you to harbor any illusions."

"Be straight with me, Jonas. I'm frightened now."

He gestured with one elegant hand to the last line of the ledger. Cora bent close to it and read the sum of £10,000.

"Is that including the house and the _Deliverance_?"

"No. That is the last reckoning your grandfather made of the various goods and money he had hidden away for the family's security. You had around another £10,000 in addition to this."

"Had?"

"Times were hard here, Miss Turner," He said apologetically. "People slowly stopped coming in our harbor to trade when Normandy fell apart. Then the Navy started hanging about here and trade ceased altogether. We haven't got much room for people to grow food of their own. I had to spend a great deal of money having ships protected so they could sail in here with our necessary supplies, let alone the cost of feeling the entire town.

"Then we started hearing rumors of the Fraternité. She was moving steadily closer to us. When the rumors became strong enough that she was going to attack Alameade I had to hire two mercenary ships to protect us. It was absolute extortion, and then the privateer didn't even show her ugly French face."

"So all we have left is this £10,000 that Grandfather left behind?"

"...the only reason I felt safe spending the kind of money I did is because I believed that we _did_ have the £10,000. It's mentioned only as a footnote- £10,000 in safe, to be kept there until emergency -in Caylyn's ledgers. But when I went to the safe last night to see what exactly he'd saved there... it was empty."

Cora sat down slowly behind the desk, numb with disbelief.

"We have nothing?"

"In the material sense, yes. But we still have this house, and the people of the town won't hesitate to help us however they can."

"They're barely getting by themselves. How can I ask them to support Dominic and I too?"

"You still have the _Deliverance_." He said in his quite gentleman's way, too delicate to state his idea outright.

"I carry the pardon Jack Aubrey wrote me seven years ago with me every day, Jonas Sewell, to remind myself that I have left that life behind." She sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "I'll just have to keep doing what I did while I was staying in Port Royal. I'm sure I can find a merchant who needs a ship or an escort for one. Maybe I'll just have to start asking for whatever it was you paid those mercenaries. A mercenary is one step short of a pirate. Maybe I'll be able to live with that."

She left Jonas without taking his leave, too shaken by what she'd realized. She didn't feel as if she'd come home because the home she'd thought she was coming to didn't exist. She'd expected to find her family's estate in tact. She was going to start sending inquiries about a good teacher for Dominic- he was so much brighter than she'd ever been, he deserved a good education before he rushed off into the Navy. She was going to try and learn to play the violin again. Now she would have to go back to the endless monotony of the last seven years. She would have to take Dominic back out there, keep him from the home she'd promised him and put him in harm's way, because the moment he came squalling out of her and the midwife lay him in her arms she'd sworn she would never do to him what her mother had done to her.

She couldn't mention this to anyone. Both Finn and Stephen would immediately offer themselves as alternatives to destitution. With Finn, the proposition would be heartfelt but laughable. His state was likely little better than her own; like the truest of all pirates, his money was no sooner in his hands than he spent it. She would find a sort of joy living with him; it wouldn't mean marriage or even sex. He would take her in like a bird fallen from its nest, and it was possible that somewhere down the road she would begin to love him at long last. With Stephen, the proposition almost frightened her.

She couldn't decide now. She'd promised Jack and Stephen two weeks, and she would keep that promise. Then she could go back to Port Royal and let him walk away from her again. She couldn't imagine him doing anything else. She already resented him for it at the same time that she longed to walk up the stairs and collapse and lose herself in him again. She ignored the impulse. She would go back to Port Royal, where she'd begun, and begin again.

There was a lull in upstairs concert, and Jack's merry laughter filled the void, Stephen's strange creak joining and sharing the joy of a slipped finger. Then they resumed, and the violin stretched for its upper ranges, a high sad sound like a child crying alone in the dark.

---------------------

Jack and Stephen played the greater part of the morning away until Jack felt the need to sniff around the kitchen, incurring the wrath of its guardian Gibbs. They were expelled from the house and left to rove the island with money in their pockets in search of food.

Half the island seemed to be made of the hill that the Starre house perched on top of. Perhaps another quarter of it was the town, a little community with one church, a schoolhouse, an open market and the harbor. The other quarter was comprised of fields, ripening steadily now. It wasn't a particularly loud or busy place, and not nearly as squalid as a pirate's haven would be thought of. The people were gracious and friendly, and many of them recognized Jack and Stephen from the party. They eagerly shared their food with them and laughed at the tale of Gibbs' anger.

"He's had to be tough. He had to keep Jack Sparrow and two adolescent girls away from that kitchen!"

Everywhere they went there were stories of the Starre family and their pirate brethren, told like folk stories already passing into legend. They filled the island, even though nearly every one of them was dead.

"I'm glad to have a Starre back in that house," The woman who cooked them fish said. "Jonas has done a well enough job for us since James died, but I can't help but think that James would've gotten us through these times a little better. He had all the best of the Starres in him."

It was true that these people weren't wealthy, but it was hard to think of them as poor. There wasn't a single person on the island without a roof over their head, it seemed. None of them were plump, but there wasn't a single skeleton. There were the signs of hard times in some places: one room houses, children dressed in worn hand-me-downs. A few of the men heading for their docked boats to go fishing would glare at Jack and Stephen, and they decided as one that they were lucky James Starre had been the caretaker of Alameade for most of these people's lives, and Jonas after him. If Arlen Starre had been the ruler, they would've been dead the moment their feet touched its soil.

There were a few stories about her. She was mentioned always as Lone Star, and the name Black Wolf was never far from hers. They noticed very quickly that there were never any stories about them after their adolescent years ended. It was as if then they'd stopped existing to them. They didn't know very much about Cora, and even less about her sister Ashli.

"She was such a quiet child," One older woman said of Cora. "I don't think I ever saw her smile."

When their bellies were full, they moved at last back towards the house on the hill. They'd been reminded in the town of their obligation to put on a concert and were arguing over which pieces they should play in-between breaths as they neared the door. Jack was denouncing Beethoven as a filthy supporter of Bonaparte in his best sea voice when they stepped into the upstairs hallway, and wouldn't go anywhere near Stephen's suggestion of playing the Eroica symphony.

"He changed the dedication the moment Bonaparte was crowned emperor, Jack, it's hardly fair of you to-"

"Whatever the words on the page say, the notes were written with that arse-rag of a Frenchman in mind and I won't profane the violin playing them!"

They paused, partly because they were still catching their breath and partly because the sight of the room beside them- the room Arlen and Michael Turner had shared for years, the room Cora and Stephen had shared only last night -was something shocking. Cora sat in what appeared to be the eye of a hurricane, staring at them like a thief caught in the act. Papers, clothes, and even the large dresser in the room had been moved. Most startling was the wall panel that had been removed to reveal a passageway.

"Whatever are you doing there, Cora?" Stephen frowned as she stood, wiping her hands on her pants.

"Looking for sheet music for you, actually. My mother liked to hide things." She smiled, and he was not entirely convinced that what she said was true, despite the sheets she did hold in her hand. "Everyone is adamant about hearing the two of you play, and I must admit I'm with child to hear it myself. The preview I heard this morning was exquisite."

"Stuff and nonsense. That was only warming up." Jack smiled back as she handed him the music.

"I think these ones are some of the songs we used to sing on the ship. I'm sure there won't be a dry eye if you play some of these."

"This is the perfect way to fill some of the time we'd been quarreling over." Jack beamed. "Should you like to show us some of the pieces we don't know?"

"I hardly know them myself. I can't read music."

"Well, we shall have to remedy that. We shall teach you now."

"No, it's quite all right, really-"

"I insist upon it, Miss Turner."

Cora looked to Stephen for help, but his face remained impassive. When Jack turned to walk back towards his room she sent him a dire glare, but it only made him smile and put his arm around her waist as they followed in the captain's wake.

When Jack put the violin in Cora's arms she held it for a moment, her eyes tracing every curve, before she put it up to her shoulder and raised the bow. She did it all in one fluid motion, as if she'd lied and really had been playing it every day of the last thirteen years. She herself looked startled how natural it was for her left hand to fall into the right position, and for the bow to rest so easily in the right.

Afterwards the progress was never so easy. Cora was easily frustrated by the notes and by the way her fingers so often slid out of tune when she attempted vibrato. Jack suggested she try doing without it, but that turned out more aggravating. They still forded on, Cora seated and Jack standing just behind her, correcting her and naming the notes in a low voice- G,A,B,C- thus, very well thus- no, shift that finger a little higher- 'tis always better to have a sharp C than a flat one- you're very nearly there, Miss Turner, except that was an F natural and not a sharp...

Stephen was observing the moment, disengaged because observation required that you didn't live in the moment you observed, and so he was the first to be aware of a second sound running underneath the violin's notes. Cora was aware of it second; her bow froze on the string and she looked towards the door, where the footsteps were drawing closer. She had just enough time to stand and set the violin aside when Dominic burst into the room and wrapped himself tightly around Cora's legs.

"Momma! Why didn't you come in and wake me this morning? I've been with Anamaria all day. She took me to the ships. You should've been there yourself if you're the captain! Can you play the violin too?"

"I'm learning to again, thanks to Captain Aubrey."

"Can I try?"

"I'm afraid that violin is too big for you. Perhaps if you ask your mother nicely enough, she'll have a smaller one made for you."

It was an innocent suggestion; it was a good suggestion. But when Stephen looked to Cora to gauge her reaction fear had spread itself across her face. She met his eyes for an instant, and then it was gone.

"Momma, can I have a little violin of my own?"

"We shall see, Dom. Are you hungry?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Very well, let's go and see Gibbs then!"

"I'd be careful if I were you," Jack cautioned. "He didn't take it too kindly when Stephen and I were in his pantry, as it were."

"Don't worry. I knew Gibbs' soft spots the day I was born." Cora smiled, taking Dominic's hand. "Should you like to come with us? He might feel more inclined to feed you now."

"I shall stay here. I want to go over these pieces once more." Jack responded.

"I think I might come with you." Stephen decided, rising and joining her at the door. "I will return shortly."

Jack nodded and took up the violin once more as they left, the sound of it following them all the way down the hall.

Walking together was more awkward than they would've thought with Dominic between them. He held on to Cora's hand naturally as he gave them a detailed (if somewhat desultory) account of his entire day, but his other hand brushed Stephen's leg repeatedly, reminding him that he couldn't in all conscience do the same. He tripped once on the stairs and they both lunged to catch him, but it was Cora who hefted him into her arms and teased him about how big he'd grown.

They were on their way to the kitchen when Stephen caught sight of Anamaria approaching them. Jonas stood in the doorway she'd just vacated, and when Cora caught sight of them both she tensed very subtly.

"Stephen, could you take Dominic to the kitchen? He knows the way. I need to talk to Anamaria about how the repairs."

"Of course."

Cora kissed Dominic's forehead, making him squirm and laugh, then set him down and promised to be there to put him to bed. She smiled at Stephen too, then met Anamaria halfway across the hall. They spoke quietly for a moment, then headed for the safety of the outdoors.

"Can you show me the way to the kitchen?" Stephen asked his son when they were gone.

"Of course. Momma used to say I couldn't go in there. Once I brought a bird into the kitchen at my grandparent's house..."

Stephen didn't really listen to the rest of the story, too absorbed in the realization that the moment his mother was gone Dominic had taken his hand as if it was the most natural thing in all the world.

--------------------

Cora and Anamaria were late to dinner. They slunk in after the meal had started, both with blank faces, and sat down at their designated seats. Gibbs had threatened to lop off their heads if they were much later, but the moment he caught the look in their eyes he said nothing, keeping his thoughts to his soup. Dinner was unremarkable after their entrance, the conversation trite but amiable. Dominic attempted to recite everything Anamaria had taught him at the dock that day; Stephen dozed off when he began to describe the different types of rope they had to use. He was roused by Jack's voice asking him if they should like to go over the pieces they'd chosen just once more before they went to bed.

"I'm afraid not, my dear. I'm terribly tired; that meal sits heavy on me, most uncommonly heavy. Soup wasn't the thing for a day like today. No, I shall retire directly."

The others beat them up the stairs, and by the time Stephen made his way there he could spy Cora sitting on Dominic's bed, her back to him, speaking so softly to the little boy he wasn't even sure she was speaking at all and running her hand endlessly through his hair. Then she bent down and kissed him, doused the light, and left the room.

"I'll be amazed if he sleeps at all tonight," She admitted to Stephen as she closed the door behind her. "He's so in love with this place. All of it. He can't stop talking about his room, all the things he's found in the house, the village..."

"Is something the matter, joy?" He asked when she looked away from him, down to the floor. He caught her chin and tipped her head back to meet his eyes.

"Of course not. What makes you ask?"

"There has been something in your aspect all day. You do not seem entirely happy."

"I'm tired, that's all. It's probably your fault."

His breath rushed out in something that wasn't quite a laugh, just an expression of joy. He hadn't released her chin yet and she wrapped her hand around his wrist, tracing his pulse point with her thumb.

"Will you...?"

He paused, drew in his breath again, then nodded.

There was an utterly foreign domesticity between them as they walked down the hall, hesitated between their two bedrooms and went at last into Cora's, in the way they went to opposite sides of the bed to undress. Cora found a nightgown for herself; Stephen wore nothing at all. He crawled into the side of the bed he'd chosen just before she did. He was already half asleep when she joined him; he sensed her hovering over him.

"That's my side of the bed."

He made a noise of sleep inquiry and tried to pull her down to him- just go to sleep, the motion said.

"Ashli used to sleep on this side. I slept over there."

She succumbed at last to his tugging and lay down right beside him, on her stomach, with one arm thrown over him.

"I've never slept alone in this house." She whispered. Stephen roused himself just enough to kiss her forehead, the way she'd done Dominic's, and then the world fell away from them.

-----------------

The next four days were as close to peace as Cora and Stephen had ever been in the time they'd known each other.

The mornings were slow and lazy. They woke when the sun shined on them and then denied it was there at all. They tried to fall back asleep. Cora decided to find out if Stephen was ticklish. Stephen decided it wasn't very amusing and tried to force her to stop, only to find himself kissing her and wanting her, tasting sunlight on her lips. He'd never seen her smile quite like that before, not until he pinned her arms above her forehead with a look of pure irritation that faded too quickly for his comfort at the warmth of her beneath him and her legs shifting against his.

They went down to the town for breakfast with Jack and Dominic on two of the mornings, when everything the townspeople made was fresh and they offered it to them with open arms. Dominic made fast friends with the children there. They felt safe enough leaving him to go back to the house. For much of the morning Jack would continue his lessons with Cora, and when she'd had her fill he sat down with Stephen and practiced for their concert. The afternoons were fluid; Stephen spent time reading the books he'd brought with him, writing in his journal. Jack wrote to Sophie or went down to the harbor or fell asleep on the verandah. Cora disappeared and never mentioned where she was. They never asked.

Just before dinner they'd go down into the village and search out Dominic. On the way up the hill, and while they sat on the verandah waiting for dinner, Stephen began to teach Dominic Catalan. He thought it was strange at first, but gradually he caught on to the idea of a different language.

"Is it like a code?"

"Yes, except it's a code that a whole country understands. It's a code I learned to speak when I was even younger than you are."

Afterwards, he took it much more seriously. They'd sit in the still evening air, listening to the cries of the gulls and reciting words one after another, almost like a song.

On the fourth day, the day before the concert, two days before they were to return to Port Royal, it took them much longer than normal to find his pupil. He and some of his new friends seemed to have wandered further east on the island, towards the fields. Stephen and Cora had spent the afternoon together that day; she showed him a beach hidden behind the house, and when they went back up the cliffside she held his hand. They were still holding hands as they walked through the town, and when they found Dominic at last he took Cora's other hand. They walked back up to the house like that. As they neared the top, Dominic spoke suddenly.

"Are you my uncle?"

"No, I am not."

"I didn't think so," He said thoughtfully. "Momma never holds hands with Uncle Finn."

That night, when they lay in bed, Stephen drew Cora carefully closer to him when she was nearly asleep and whispered in her ear.

"I want to tell him, joy. I want to tell him that I'm his father."

She was rigid, instantly awake. She rolled over to face him and her eyes glistened in the dark.

"How would we even begin to tell him? Stephen, you're leaving in two days. And after that... who knows? We can't break Dom's heart like that, love."

He had to accept her reasons, as much as he felt like protesting. As she told him on the night they met Finn, they had only two weeks. There was no time for anger.

She kissed him once, lingeringly, as if in apology. Then she put her back to him once more.

----------------

The next day was just like all the others, except for that peculiar undercurrent they all pretended they didn't feel- the insistent pull of the tide. The _Deliverance_ was ready, all of Jack and Stephen's things were packed away in their sea chests, and Port Royal beckoned.

They did all the same things they'd done before, but they did it with extra passion. Cora progressed farther than before on her playing; she understood the scales Jack had been drilling into her and her intonation was fast returning. She could begin to remember some of the pieces she'd played as a girl.

"Perhaps you should join us tonight. Just for a song." Stephen suggested as she passed the violin off to Jack.

"No," She sighed, standing behind his chair and letting one of her hands rub his shoulder. "Tonight is your night."

She stood like that for the whole song, afraid to let him go.

This afternoon she did not disappear. She followed Stephen when he went to his room and took the book he'd picked up out of his hand and laid it aside. Without saying a word she kissed him the same way she'd touched his shoulder- unable to let go. With no 'cello to lose himself in, Stephen found the same emotion in himself.

They realized they had to dress when they heard Jack moving about the hall, and even then it was impossible to resist the urge to take each other once more with a quiet, fierce urgency, terrified he would hear and terrified to realize that it was likely the last time they would touch. Dominic shared Cora's cabin on the _Deliverance_. Between Alameade and Port Royal Cora would have to be the captain once more, not the lover, just as she had once asked him to stop being a doctor for only a little while. Stephen wished with all his heart that Pullings wouldn't be there when they arrived. He prayed he'd forget they existed.

The town was putting on another party for them, and when they left the house on the hill they could already hear the chatter in the square. Jack and Stephen carried their instruments towards the sound, while Cora was holding on to the change of clothes she'd brought for Dominic. She'd worn a dress at Stephen's request. He smiled as she fought not to destroy the hem on her way down. Gibbs was carrying an enormous pot of stew, which also seemed in imminent danger of disaster. He'd asked Cora to carry it, but she'd looked with mistrust into the pot.

"After the scorpion, I don't trust any of your stews anymore."

They were surrounded by swarms of people when they reached the limits of the town. Cora had recruited Finn and his sailors to bring tables down from the Starre house and some of the wealthier families had donated theirs too, creating a long row of bright, mismatched table cloths and platters of food. Jack and Gibbs headed straight for the rich scents and Cora quickly chased down Dominic, admonishing him for ruining yet another pair of breeches and trying to convince him to change into the new clothes she'd brought.

Adrift, Stephen wandered through the crowds in search of a place he could put his cello. He was pointed in the direction of the church, which lay at the end of a stone path on the southern end of the square. It was easily the wealthiest building in the town. It must've cost a great deal to send the stone to the small island and build it.

"Who worships here?" Stephen asked. Religion was never a subject he touched on with Cora. She was aware from the casual conversations they shared in the morning and evening that he was Catholic, but didn't seem bothered by it. He'd never asked about her beliefs. He was fairly certain she'd say she worshiped Neptune.

"Anyone, really. We've had missionaries from every religion here. It's open to anyone who wants it."

They left their instruments tucked carefully away on one of the oaken pews and then returned to the joyous sound of the party. Some sailors who'd already been at the rum began to sing sea chanties and Stephen joined in to those he knew. Cora caught sight of him and went to kiss his cheek at the end of one, heedless of who might see.

They waited until the food was gone to begin migrating towards the church. The light was fading, and Jack and Stephen entered just as the candelabras were being lit. Someone had rearranged the pews so that they were in a rough semi-circle facing the altar, where two chairs and two music stands were waiting. For the first time, the two old friends felt a twinge of nervousness when they went to play. Sure, a frigate of 200 men had listened to them play before, but it was quite different when the whole town was sitting right before them, looking them right in the eye.

Then once they sat down in their familiar configuration and their instruments melted to become one of them, everything was right again. The time, the place and the company didn't matter. This was the one common ground they could meet on. They shot off in a whirl into the stirring opening of the Boccherini they'd chosen. _La Musica Notturna Delle Strade di Madrid_, the happiest song they knew.

The last song was one they found at the bottom of the stack of music Cora gave them. It had no title and no composer. It was written only for the violin, but when Jack finished playing it that first time they knew they had to find a way to play it together at the concert. Stephen improvised the 'cello part himself, with much trepidation. He was eager not to detract from the beauty of the violin's melody, but it was his 'cello that had the last word. When the last high note of the violin faded from their cognizance, only his low sound was left to vibrate through the utter stillness of the church.

It wasn't until much later in the night that Jack would think to turn over his page and see that in the bottom corner of the page it said 'Lone Star, New Year's Day 1800.' Neither of them realized that they'd played a lament for everything this island once lost when the last note died. When he met Cora's eyes over the music stand and saw Dominic sleeping on her shoulder, Stephen realized only how much it would hurt when the equilibrium they'd created was dragged away from them by the slow inevitability of the morning's tide.

--------------------

A/N-- Whew. How many of you made it? If anyone is still alive after that, proceed to ponder about what will happen next. Will Cora simply let Stephen walk away again? And what is she going to do about her family's money? Wait and see...

Many thanks to **silverwolf of the night** for her review. Why she continues to read when she knows the whole story baffles me, but I appreciate her (and anyone else who happens on this humble story of mine) very much.


	9. The Lodestone

A/N-- Anyone who can guess which famous work of English literature the title of this chapter alludes to will get a nod in my next chapter! (plus, if you can guess it you'll have a huge foreshadowing) 

I'd like to express my renewed admiration for Stephen. I spent time looking up Catalan for this chapter and I was flabbergasted. It's very, very strange, and not at all as easy as regular Spanish. Of course, this is coming from a student who chose to take German and who looks on all Spanish as a little weird, but I'd just like to state it for the world to know. Look it up on wikipedia if you'd like to see a very odd blend of Spanish and French (and possibly Latin). I apologize for any inaccuracies, as they are entirely my fault.

------------------------  
Chapter Nine  
The Lodestone  
_in which a siren's call is heard and answered_

When Cora began to the long climb back up the path up the slanting cliffside it wasn't nearly so hard as when she'd come down just after dawn. Jonas couldn't manage the way down to the hidden beach at the foot of the cliff with his wooden leg, and everyone else on the island respected its sanctity too much to intrude. Respecting its sanctity, of course, meant letting all the scrub and seaside grasses consume the once well-worn path. There was an older sanctity about it now- she'd learned from Dominic the sacredness of wild things.

So when she left the warmth of Stephen's bed she'd gone down to pull out all the wild things that had taken her place since she went away, afraid that by the time she was able to return again she would be unable to get down to the beach at all. If she ever did get back.  
She was sweating under her clothes before she got halfway down and her arms were cut in a dozen places from the bushes, mingling with the bruises on her arms from where Stephen had clutched to her the night before. She'd have to wear long sleeves so no one would see. It was already time to start pretending they weren't lovers anymore.

The beach at the end of her sojourn wasn't terribly large. The deep-throated roar of the surf covered all of it in sound, obliterating the other senses. It was enclosed by rock- the cliffs behind her and the jetty that projected out onto the sea. The waters there were deep, and it was there that the _Lone Star Running_ and her sister ships used to moor when they stopped for just a night.

Once she and Ashli slept on the beach rather than making the arduous climb back up to the house. Ashli couldn't have been more than ten- Cora remembered that she was thirteen at the time, and that when Ashli rolled over in her sleep to press against her sister her sleeping hand had landed on the first curve of breast beneath her shirt. Cora was terribly conscious of the subtle differences between herself and her sister then, but only for Ashli's sake. She recoiled from them. But that night there was a lazy sort of peace in the connection, and she drifted away without fear, wrapped in the sound and scent of the sea and the love of her closest friend and confidante.

She'd drifted off into a sort of half-consciousness when she got down to the beach that morning, lying on the cool sand. She dreamt that she'd brought Stephen down to the beach with her; she dreamt that it was his warmth that stirred her from sleep. She was confused to open her eyes and find the sun hovering above her and not his face. She was even more confused to hear a voice above the roar of the surf.

"Didn't get enough sleep last night, did ye lass?"

"Where have you been these past four days, Finn?" Cora asked, standing as quickly as she could. "And you don't look much better yourself, if you don't mind my saying."

"The _Limerick_ took a right nasty knocking during that storm. I had some tricky repairs to oversee."

"Does your Molly have a new breast yet?"

"Actually, I told the carpenter to leave it be. I rather like your idea about her being an Amazon."

Cora smiled and looked back out to the sea. It was still fairly dark on the beach. The sun hadn't climbed high enough to touch them yet.

"You know... don't you, Finn?"

"About you and the sawbones?"

"...aye."

"I knew the first night ye went to him. The night of the party."

"I'm sorry, Finn. I am."

"No ye're not. Ye have no reason to be. I always knew ye weren't mine, lass. I never stopped hoping," His laugh was achingly close to bitter. "But I always knew in my gut ye couldn't love me. I just want to see ye happy."

"I don't know if I can be happy."

"Cora Turner-"

"I don't mean it the way I meant it when I was young. I thought it was impossible to be happy then. Now I know I could be happy but the chance is being taken from me." She felt herself start shaking like her body wasn't her own. "The money is gone, Finn. All of it. I have nothing. I have to go all the way back to where I started. And the worst is that I have to drag Dom with me too. He's so in love with this place. He can't stop talking about how much he loves the house and all the new friends he's made. I can't take him away from that. But what will happen to him if I just let Anamaria raise him, as my mother did me? Either he loses his home or his mother!"

Finn drew Cora close against him as she started to cry. The last time she remembered letting go so totally was when she stood before her grandparents late one night in 1805 and told them she was pregnant. She'd collapsed into Will Turner's arms just as completely as she did in Finn's now. She didn't pay attention to the Irishman's soft endearments until her tears faded away.

"Thank you." She whispered, drawing away.

"I'll always stand beside ye, Cora. I'd offer my help if I thought ye'd take it, but it tisn't really my place. If this doctor of yours is any kind of a decent man- and he must be, for ye didn't fall for a scoundrel like me -he'll do the right thing and force ye to accept his help."

"Don't say anything to him Finn. You can't. Swear to me."

"Why, lass?"

"If he wants to- if he and I- it can't be because of this. If I wanted a marriage for the sake of support I would've written him the moment I knew Dominic was in my belly."

Finn sighed and dragged a hand through his shaggy hair, but said nothing.

"Aye, I swear. But I'm still here for ye, lass, if ye need."

Cora smiled faintly and put one hand on his cheek, drawing him down to her so she could leave a kiss there. Then she left him standing alone on the beach, watching the endless repetition of the waves.

-----------------

Stephen woke alone for the first time in a week and felt his stomach clench at the sensation. She was already gone. The next three days didn't matter. She had as good as left him.

He got up much faster than he would've normally. He dressed with just a little too much force and managed to pop off one of the buttons on his vest. He was on his knees searching underneath the bed for it when Jack came in.

"What on earth are you at, Stephen?"

"My button, Jack, my button has deserted me."

"My word. Shall we enter it on the books?"

"This is no time for your infernal puns. I refuse to spend all day walking around with my vest half buttoned like some damn fool French libertine."

"Soul, could you not wear a different vest?"

"I'm not going through my sea chest again. We don't have the time to be packing it and unpacking it as much as we please. We have to leave today. The sea waits for no one."

"Shall I help you to look for it, then...?"

Stephen forced a deep breath through his body and stood. He could almost smile at the idea of Jack attempting to crawl underneath the bed in search of a lost button.

"It is only a button. I can still do up the rest. I beg you to forgive me, Jack. I am in an uncommon bad mood today."

Jack nodded and took a breath, preparing to speak, then let the moment pass and walked away. They met again downstairs with their sea chests ready. Dominic had his miniature one too and sat uneasily on it, frowning off into the distance.

"Mr. Turner, has your morning been as terrible to you as Doctor Maturin's has been to him? Have you lost a vital button as well?"

"I don't want you to leave. I want to go with you. Momma says I must stay here and go to school."

"We shall miss you sorely too, Mr. Turner. Perhaps when you have learned to write you may send us letters in England."

"Will you write to me in Catalan, Doctor?" Dominic asked.

"I fear you would not understand it." He had to strain not to call him by his Christian name. They'd begun to do that when they had their lessons. _Esteban_, he'd stumbled out. Never _Papà_ or _Pare_.

"Maybe someone in the town speaks it." He sighed.

Cora arrived at last, dressed in the same clothes she'd worn the day they left Port Royal, down to the beaten old tricorne hat. Gibbs, Jonas and Finn weren't far behind her.

"I take it we are all ready to leave? Good. The tide is just going out."

She didn't leave anyone time to respond to her, already hefting her chest into her arms and walking out the door.

"Say good-bye to the house, Dom." She called as they walked down the hill.

"Won't we be back soon?"

"...never forget to say good-bye, Dom, whenever you leave a place. Your Momma left this place once without saying good-bye."

"_Adéu_," Dominic said after a hesitation, trying to enunciate each part carefully. They'd waited until just yesterday to learn that word.

They were nearly a quarter of the way down when they saw the figure running up towards them. They walked just a little farther before they stopped and waited for him to come to them. It was a sailor from the _Deliverance_, a letter in hand.

"A ship just came in. The message is for you, Captain. They said it was of the utmost urgency."

Cora set her chest down on the road; the sailor rushed to keep it from sliding. She accepted the parchment and stiffened when she turned it over to look at the seal.

"That's your family's seal," Gibbs, who was closest to her, cried out. "The seal on Arlen's ring."

"She wasn't wearing it when she died." Cora said breathlessly. "I would've seen it on her hand. Who did she give it to?"

She didn't wait for the answer. She tore open the parchment with shaking hands, as if she expected her mother to be keeping a correspondence across the grave. Jack and Stephen shared a glance, remembering the last time she read a letter aloud to them. This time she read it through herself before daring speak to the words aloud. Her whole frame tensed as she did.

_1 July, 1812 at sea_

"Only yesterday..."

_Cora,  
It's been seven years, sister, since I've spoken to you. Do you know we never even said good-bye? Uncle James took you onto the other ship and I never saw you again, except when they led us to the prison in Port Royal. Did you ever look for me in the chains? Did you ever think of us before you sent us to die? _

I haven't written this letter to accuse you. I could've written that letter a dozen times over for every year we've been apart. I write it now because I've realized at last that I don't know the half of what happened to you aboard that ship. I feel as if I've barely known you, Cora- as if I barely knew our mother. I'm not a child anymore. I need to understand- and I need you to help me. Please, if you still have mercy in your heart for your baby sister, come and meet me at the Isla de Tesoro the day after you receive this letter. I will wait for you there in the ship Rising Star until the 5th of this month. After that... I will assume we are to remain enemies until they end of our days.

_All my love,  
Ashli Turner_

When the last trembling word faded from her lips and Cora crumpled the parchment in her hands, all that was left was the sound of the sea sobbing on the shore far below them. No one knew what to say at first. Dominic looked the most lost- almost as if he'd cry from the confusion.

"I have to go to her." Cora whispered at last.

"I can't be as sure as you are, lass," Finn said. "Why is she writing _now_?"

"How can you doubt her like that? Ashli doesn't have a cunning bone in her body. She's as capable of a plan like you're thinking of as our grandfather Caylyn was."

"It rings false in my old bones, Cora," Gibbs added. "You saw what Black Wolf and Jack's deaths did to Lone Star. Who knows what Lone Star's death did to Ashli?"

Cora drew her breath in rapidly, ready to shout, then let it out in a massive sigh.

"We can't know. But I have to go to her, Gibbs. She's my baby sister. I can't let her down. She doesn't even know she has a nephew."

"The Isla de Tesoro!" Jonas cried suddenly. "Miss Turner, that's where it was hidden! I reread Caylyn's note last night- it didn't say hidden _in_ a safe, it said hidden s.w. safe. In all his logs s.w. stood for somewhere!"

"The name makes sense, considering that Tesoro means treasure. But what I fail to understand is the significance of this discovery." Stephen said. "Why do you need treasure? You assured us that this was where your family kept the bulk of its wealth."

"Yes, well... There isn't time now. Ask me again later." Cora bent swiftly to kneel before Dominic. "Darling, you must stay here with Jonas. I'll be back in a few days. I just need to settle some things."

"I want to come with you! I want to say good-bye to-"

"Dominic, this could be dangerous. Do you remember when the we were attacked last year by those Spanish ships?"

His hot anger melted suddenly. He tried to put up a brave front instead. "I wasn't scared."

"I don't want to put you in danger like that again, Dom. I believe what your Aunt Ashli wrote to me, but..." She sighed in frustration this time. "I just need you to stay here. Where you're safe."

Overwhelmed, Dominic began to cry. Cora pulled her onto his lap and hushed him as best as she could. He didn't cry for long, lacking either the strength or the motivation. It wasn't the first time he'd been left behind.

"Go and say good-bye to Doctor Maturin and Captain Aubrey now." She whispered, giving him a kiss and wiping the last of his tears away.

He walked to them slowly, his head bowed. "Always stand tall, lad." Jack admonished gently. Dominic put his thin little shoulders back and lifted his chin to look them in the eye.

"I will miss you." He said.

"And I you, lad. Maybe someday, God willing, we will serve together. Until then," His hand engulfed Dominic's smaller one. "The best of everything to you and your mother."

"Godspeed." He murmured, having heard many departures before. Then he turned to Stephen. "How do you say I will miss you, _Esteban_?"

"_Jo hauré enyorat tu_," He said quietly, knowing it would be too hard for him to say. He tried to stumble out the words anyway.

Then there was nothing left to say, nothing left to do. Stephen didn't dare reach for his hand as Jack had done. The only time he'd ever touched Dominic was when he nearly fell from the mainmast, and then once when they were climbing the hill, and Stephen rested his hand lightly on the boy's back to keep him from sliding back.

"_Jo hauré enyorat tu_," He repeated. "_Adéu_."

Dominic went back to his mother then and she held him once more.

"I'll be back soon. And I love you, no matter what happens."

"_Jo estimo tu_," Dominic said. The unspoken translation lingered in the air: _I love you._

Cora couldn't resist the urge to look up into Stephen's eyes. Dominic had just learned the phrase yesterday. When Stephen woke that morning to Cora's kiss he'd whispered it without thinking. She'd smiled and asked him what it meant. He wouldn't say. But now they both knew that she knew. He'd said the one thing they'd always feared.

Jonas stepped forward when Cora backed away and took Dominic's hand and led him back to the house, his other arm around the sea chest. Dominic looked over his shoulder only once.

"We have to leave now. Finn, the _Limerick_ doesn't need to follow if you and your men don't want to. Your masts are still in a sad way after that storm. In fact, I'd feel better if you stayed here and looked after things."

"Have ye forgotten about our French friend, the _Fraternité_? She's still out there, Cora. You gave her the slip once- she'll want blood now. The _Limerick_ may not be ready, but my men are. With mine added to yours, we could crew all of the _Deliverance_'s guns and then some."

Cora chewed her lip as she walked, then stumbled and cursed when her chest slid from her arms.

"Are your men all on the _Limerick_?"

"They've got leave. We could find them quickly- we wouldn't miss the tide."

Cora nodded. "Gibbs, send someone up here to get our things. The more of us searching the faster we'll find them."

They left their things in the middle of the road and dispersed into the town below them. This time, no one looked back.

--------------

They caught the very tail-end of their tide and left the town with cheers and well wishes echoing in their ears. The ship was in an uproar as Anamaria and Cora struggled to assimilate the Deliverances and the Limericks, reorganizing watches and praying for time to practice with the guns; theirs were far heavier than anything the _Limerick_ carried. There was no time to reorganize the stores immediately with the addition of the new ones, and the _Deliverance_ hung heavier aft than they would've wished as they headed out of the harbor. With all these various preparations, Stephen had no opportunity to speak to Cora until that night.

He found her in her cabin, writing in her log. To his great surprise, a certain small boy was sitting on the hammock behind her looking rather sullen.

"Mr. Turner, what on earth are you doing here?"

"Momma says I'm not to speak to anyone."

"You're doing it right now, Dominic. I will explain to Doctor Maturin _exactly_ what you did." She turned irritated grey-blue eyes onto Stephen. "He threw all the apples out of a barrel in the _Limerick_'s hold and crawled in. Then the barrel was brought over here and he was discovered when we went to stow them."

"I only wanted to-"

"Dominic Jack Turner, what did I tell you about speaking? You've put yourself in danger by coming with us and I'm still very angry with you!"

Dominic hung his head. Stephen felt a surge of pity for him that he quelled.

"I take it that now is not a good time to bring up the question you told me to remember this morning." The end hung uncertainly between question and statement.

Cora's quill froze on the page and for a moment she was a tableau in the candlelight- she'd taken off her hat and her coat and the light showed through her white sleeves, revealing the delicacy of one wrist and highlighting her throat. Stephen fought not to remember the kisses and whispered words he'd left there.

"Dominic, you're allowed to speak now. I want you to go and speak to Captain Aubrey about what it's like to spend the night at the masthead and ask him if he recommends it as a suitable punishment for a _stowaway_."

"Yes, Momma."

A look of the pity Stephen had felt in himself flashed across Cora's face as Dominic trudged out the door, but she too restrained it. When they were alone, she turned her chair around and offered him one.

"Would you care for something to drink?"

"No, thank you."

She rummaged around in the cabinet nearby her desk as she spoke. "So, what question is it exactly you wish to have answered?"

"Why is this Isla de Tesoro so important?"

She waited until she found the bottle she was looking for and took a drink before she started. Then she told him everything- the expenses of the town, the dwindling commerce, the mercenaries they'd hired, and the £10,000 that was supposed to be waiting for her when the reached Alameade. Everything made sense now- her disappearances in the afternoons, the mess she'd made in her mother's room looking for things, the anxious look that stole over her countenance sometimes when she thought no one was looking.

"That's what is on the Isla de Tesoro," She concluded with another drink. "It's a spit of land from what I recall- it's not on most charts. My grandfather used it as a stopping point when he had a large treasure that he didn't want to take back to Alameade just yet- or one that he wanted to save." She took another drink. "My God, I hope the money is there. I can't bear to go back to the life I was living when you found me in Port Royal."

"If you hated it so much than why did you deliberately hide this from me for a week, the same way you hid Dominic from me for seven years?" His voice began to rise in anger.

"I didn't hide it from you, I just didn't tell-"

"An omission is still a lie. The only conclusion I can draw from this rather disturbing habit of yours is that you want me to have no part in the most important aspects of your life or our son's."

She began to feel helpless in the face of his mounting rage. Her eyes went soft with worry and she reached out as if she could placate him. Even seeing her distress he knew he couldn't stop.

"That's not what I want- I just- I didn't want you to-"

"Did you tell Finn? Did you let him help you when no one else was there?"

"Yes, but that's-"

"Then why was it me in your bed for this last week? Why not him?"

"I've told you-"

"Maybe I find it hard to believe."

"Stop it-"

"I'm just trying to understand you, Cora. What is it that you want from me?"

"I don't know!" Her voice matched his in volume at last. "You frighten me sometimes! I've never needed someone so much before! I don't know how to ask for help or make you love me the way I want you to!"

Stephen stood stiffly from his chair, his delicate hands clenched at his sides.

"If it is still a concern of yours, you were doing a fine job of it until now."

"I'm sorry," She whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He had to choke down the white-hot fury a second time before he could answer it; his voice cracked when he did. His throat was uncommon dry.

"So am I."

Stephen didn't realize until much later that night when he sat in the sick-bay writing a letter to Diana that those were the self same words they'd spoken seven years before on the night they parted- only in reverse. Then it was Stephen begging forgiveness.

_My dear,_  
_With God's grace, when this letter finds you I will be on my way home to you. I have reached a decision on the proposition you made the last time we met, if you can recall-_

No, the tone wasn't right at all. His rage with Cora was leaking through his pen onto the paper. And reminding Diana that she thought of herself now as little more than a trumped up whore with the word 'proposition' was hardly the thing to do. He didn't seem to have the necessary skills required to propose to a woman. How Jack managed to do it with such success remained a deep mystery to him.

"How could I even begin to ask you to share your life?" He murmured to himself, denying that the words were for Cora in all but the deepest parts of his being.

---------------

Cora dismissed Finn from the watch at two that morning. She left Dominic sleeping in her cabin- he came to her on his knees the night before with a curiously contrived apology on his lips, begging her to spare him punishment for what he'd done. She found out later that Jack had given him a stern talking to about the dangers of disobedience (and its misbegotten child, mutiny), along with some hair-raising tales of the masthead. The truth was that when she thought of the incident it was with a smile. It was exactly the sort of thing she would've done.

_By all rights Stephen should've been the one to reprimand him- Dom just wasn't ready to say good-bye._

She dismissed the thought before it could cut into the vulnerable place inside of her. She would be lucky if she could convince him to speak to her again before he left. She knew well from Finn an Irishman's sense of honor, and she'd betrayed that when she lied to him. She saw now, with the perfect vision of hindsight, how foolish her actions had been.

"Starboard bow ahoy!"

The shout was faint from where she stood on the quarterdeck, but it made Cora's heart beat a little faster as she moved to the bow nonetheless. They couldn't be far from the Isla de Tesoro, if her memory served. Any ship they saw was likely Ashli's.

The sailor pointed to the sails in the distance. She ordered a greater press of sail when she saw the dot just beyond them that was the Isla de Tesoro. Her heart quickened again when the ship's stern was visible and she glimpsed the name _Rising Star_. It was dawn when they were close enough to make out the rest of the ship and the large shoulder of rock that concealed the rest of the Isla de Tesoro from sight.  
The _Star_ fired two guns from her starboard bow, then began to turn towards the island.

"She probably wants to drop anchor in the cove there. Gibbs, follow her course."

Jack Aubrey was awake and on deck in time to watch the _Star_ disappear behind the rocks. He joined Cora amidships, drumming his fingers on the rail. It wasn't much past dawn, but the entire ship was awake and moving about restlessly- with the notable exception of a certain surgeon.

"Something don't feel right," Jack murmured. "She's going to have a prodigious amount of time alone in that cove, Captain."

"Ashli is not that patient. I think even if you held a gun to her forehead she couldn't lure someone into a trap like that. She'd have to be able to come out fighting, right out in open water." She smiled briefly. "She's rather like your Nelson in that respect, I'm afraid. Never mind the maneuvers, just go straight at 'em."

It was difficult to maneuver the _Deliverance_ towards the cove at all. The tide was working back towards them and the wind's position didn't help much either. After running through every possible scenario and seeing every one of Gibbs' most hopeless looks, Cora sighed and asked for a speaking trumpet. They had dropped anchor and lay just off the side of the rocky ridge that separated them from the cove, their bow perpendicular to the entrance. They were close enough that she should be able to hear them through the trumpet.

Cora's mouth went suddenly dry when Finn returned with the speaking trumpet. For the first time in years, she would be able to speak with her sister, her closest friend and confidante until they lives went so wildly askew. It didn't help that Stephen had followed Finn up and was now perched on the ladder leading down to the sick-bay, half part of her world and half in darkness, watching her.

She wet her lips and spoke into the trumpet as clearly as she could.

"Ashli, it's Cora. I can't get the _Deliverance_ into the cove, not with this tide. You'll have to come out here and drop anchor to speak with me. Please."

Silence, and then an answering gun. It sounded much louder than they would've expected- the _Star_ was a small sloop, and most of the sailors were betting she didn't have anything much heavier than twelve-pounders on her. They chalked it up to echoes bouncing off the rocky walls of the cove.

They felt the first tremor of wrongness when they saw the sails appear above the line of rock. The _Star_'s masts had not been that tall.

"By God," Jack uttered, looking to the mainmast. "That is a French pennant."

The _Star_ had carried no pennant, French or otherwise.

Then the ship swung out, gliding smoothly on the tide, the tricolour flying proudly from her stern.

Before the stunned crew of the _Deliverance_ could react, the pirate hunter _Fraternité_ opened fire.

---------------------

A/N-- Dun da daaa! How are they going to get out of this one? And if they do, will Stephen forgive Cora? And where is this treasure that they seek? Find out soon!

Yes, silverwolf, I'm sure you're falling over laughing at the idea of an island named after our school. I can't help it if the Spanish word for treasure is Tesoro. Breathe, if you please. I'll not have you dead in front of the computer.

Thanks to **Oriana8** for the review (whining and all!).


	10. A Pirate's Honor

A/N-- I'm sorry for how long this update took, but my internet was down and we just got it working again. The updates will continue, as before, every three days. There is extensive French in this chapter. I do not speak the language, so any mistakes are those of the online translator I used. My apologies. 

For anyone who wondered, the title of last chapter is also the title of a chapter in Charles Dickens's classic _A Tale of Two Cities_.

* * *

Chapter Ten  
A Pirate's Honor  
_in which true colors are finally flown_

There were no orders Cora could give that weren't already being carried out. The anchor was rising, the sails that had only lately been raised were sheeting home once more. The _Fraternité_'s broadside ripped through their shrouds, slamming home into the foremast and any sailor unwary enough to be left standing.

"Anamaria, get into my cabin and make sure Dom hides himself well!" She shouted. "Gun crews to their stations! Gibbs, turn us so we're broadside on! Someone rig splinter-netting!"

They were too slow, far too slow. Faster than most, but not fast enough. Their first ragged broadside included only the top tier of guns. She could hear Finn shouting in Irish, trying to get the second tier opened and ready. Their next broadside was a little louder, a little stronger. But the _Fraternité_'s drove in right every time. With a groan that shook every bone in Cora's body, the foremast began to fall.

"Aim for her hull!" Cora shouted.

"The shells are bouncing off of it!" Jack called back from where he'd taken command of the guns in the last quarter.

"Is there any way we can get closer?"

"She's got the weather-gauge, Captain. We're trapped!"

"Someone get the carpenters up here. We need to cut that foremast free before it drags us down with it."

As if sensing that her prey was hamstringed, the _Fraternité_'s next broadside was aimed for the _Deliverance_'s hull. Several balls went through right at the waterline. Others took out the front two guns in the first tier. She began to close the distance between them.

"She means to board us!"

"Orders, Captain?" Anamaria's voice was unusually quiet as she stood beside Cora.

"Run up a white flag," Cora's voice was strong by comparison. They carried no colors to strike, and so there seemed less dishonor in the action. "Then everyone but the best marks get below deck. Leave the dead as they lie. Quietly, now!"

There was a muted flurry of action as everything was abandoned as it was. Sailors dropped out of the rigging with less sound than normal, then crouched and crawled into the open hatches as the last shots from the _Fraternité_ whistled overhead.

Cora found herself, Anamaria and several of her sailors crouching in the orlop where Stephen was up to his elbows in blood.

"Doctor, will everyone in here hold as they are?" Anamaria asked.

"I can vouch for all but a few-"

"Good," She threw him a pair of pistols and a cutlass from the bucket she seized before she went below deck. "Because unless every sword we've got is with us rushing these Frenchmen, you'll have quite a few extra patients to care for."

Cora's mind was racing as she waited in the relative silence of the _Deliverance_. A few of their best shots had been left on the masts. Their first shots would signal the time to charge. It would be much more difficult to surrender in the chaos of a man-to-man melee. Then again, surrender hadn't been an option since the _Fraternité_ appeared from behind the Isla de Tesoro. They would take no prisoners. She said a silent prayer to those who'd gone before her- don't let me join you too soon. I still have a son to raise.

Then it hit her. Dominic was alone in her cabin.

"No!"

"What's in your head?" Anamaria hissed, seizing Cora's arm as she tried to dart back up the ladder.

"Let me go. Dom is still up there!"

Then the first crash of musket fire- the screams of dying men all too near- feet just above them. They leapt out of the hatchway- Cora impaled one enemy without even meaning to. Anamaria and Stephen's pistols went off just behind her and her ears rang. The world seemed less real when she couldn't hear the man hit the deck after she slit his throat from behind.

From hatchways all over the ship the sailors came pouring out; the deck was thick with people alive and dead. As Cora tried to skirt the battle, moving towards her cabin, she was forced to try and move a body blocking her way over the rail. She couldn't lift the heavy man, and going around him meant going through the melee- meant facing death before she could get to her son. She dropped to her knees and sheathed her cutlass and nearly cried with the worthless exertion- then all at once someone was at the other end, lifting the head and shoulders and sending him into the sea with a crash. She didn't have to look to know it was Stephen.

"Hurry. They'll try to break in if they can't find you-"

He'd barely finished the words before she was running towards the door. He followed close at hand. Her pistols remained loaded and she discharged one to stop a man rushing out of the melee from attacking them. Jack's group had been late in coming out of the hatch and they were fighting to stop from being pressed back below; nowhere was the battle louder than where they stood, fighting. Jack's face was red with blood, and they could only pray it wasn't his.

They reached the doors of the cabin at last and pressed their backs against it. Cora fired her other pistol into the swarm surrounding Jack's group. Those they'd managed to escape skirting the battle had found them now and the scant three feet of free ground they were defending suddenly seemed too much to hold. There was no more time for thought. They rushed in when they could, disarming and killing with ruthless efficiency.

At some point, everyone realized it was too much. They would never be able to hold off all of the Frenchmen. They were trained soldiers, and paid ones, not pirates who'd been left with no other choice.

Jack's group had the last great victory. They forced their way free from the ring encircling them, and it was safe to say that the everything aft of the mizenmast was theirs again. It wasn't long after they started taking stock of their wounds (Stephen couldn't resist the urge to stop and bandage some) and preparing to advance when the Frenchmen remaining on the _Fraternité_ began to fling flaming pitch onto the sails. It was then they knew they were defeated. They had to stop fighting to throw water on the sheets and the pitch that dropped to the deck. After some harsh French commands, the sailors began to demand surrender before they killed.

Most of the pirates fought back- death before surrender! But Cora from her position at the back could see the hopelessness. She nodded to Anamaria when the dark woman was cornered at last by a Frenchman. After she dropped her weapon and raised her hands, the surrender proceeded slowly back towards them. The French sailors started corralling them towards the mainmast. Cora took the opportunity to survey the damage. The French had suffered far more casualties than they had, but that was only because they had more men to lose. She was relieved to see Finn sitting there, smiling at her, when they were made to kneel before the mainmast in a line. Anamaria and Gibbs remained alive too, though Anamaria was bleeding badly. Jack and Stephen were at her side. It was a small piece of comfort to know they'd made it this far- that she'd been given a chance to say good-bye.  
Closing her eyes and saying one more prayer, she sank to her knees beside them.

* * *

When all the defeated were gathered together and placed under guard, the captain came forward. He was taller than most of the others, with sallow skin and an aristocratic nose that had been badly broken once before. His brown hair was loose and wild over his shoulders. He was easily the bloodiest person in view- clearly he harbored no fear of violence.

"_Est-ce que ceux-ci sont tous les prisonniers_?" He said. His voice wasn't as deep as one would assume from his large frame.

_Are these all the prisoners?_ Stephen mouthed when Cora looked to him. Her face was smeared with soot and blood, but she wasn't as wild-eyed as some of the men around her- Jack still looked ready to strangle every last Frenchman aboard the ship.

"_Il y a juste encore un. Nous avons trouvé un petit passager clandestin_." Another sailor called out to him. His voice sounded out from far aft.

"There's just one more. We found a little stowaway." He whispered hoarsely. He gripped Cora's hand out of the sight of the guards when he heard her choked sound of terror. Tiny footsteps echoed across the deck towards them as the sailor who'd spoken half led and half dragged Dominic into view.

"_Mettez-le avec les autres_." The captain waved his hand in their direction.

"Momma!" He called, catching sight of Cora as they pushed him roughly towards the end of the line.

"Hush, darling. You'll be all right, just listen to what they tell you." She said quickly before the guard behind her put a knee into her shoulder blade.

"_Fait taire, chienne!_"

"That was unnecessary, Monsiuer." The captain's switch into English was as smooth as his ship's attack had been. It startled the prisoners more than it seemed to startle him. "My name is Captain Rémy. I would not have put your captain amongst you thus if you did not all dress so much the same. I am afraid that I must ask the captain to step forward now and do not try to deceive me. But honor is foreign to pirates such as yourselves, so I have someone who knows just who you are right here." He gestured to their right and they heard the rattle of chains across the plank that had been set down between the two ships.

"Ashli..." Cora breathed the name more than she said it as the young woman was brought to stand just off to the captain's side. Both sisters were bruised and battered, and that was the only strong resemblance. Ashli looked more like her grandmother Elizabeth than her sister, with a slighter frame and lighter hair. She hadn't inherited the blue Starre eyes, but from her letter and Cora's tales she was by all rights the one who'd inherited the Starre temperament.

"So, I will repeat myself- the rightful captain of this vessel must step forward now, or we will kill this woman."

Anamaria still tried to stand, to protect Cora, but Gibbs held her back. Cora gave Stephen's hand one last squeeze- he tried to hold her back too, knowing he couldn't -before she stood and moved stiffly to stand before Rémy. Her belt was unbuckled and she started to offer her sword to him. Instead he took hold of her just below the jaw and drew her close.

"Are you the captain, or the captain's whore?"

She jerked back from him and raised the sword stiffly once more.

"For better or for worse, I _am_ the captain of this vessel."

Rémy glanced at Ashli, who bowed her head and began to cry.

"I am so sorry, Cora. Please, I'm so sorry..."

Rémy smiled and took her sword from her.

"_Messieurs, enlevez-la d'autres armes, s'il vous plaît_."

The two Frenchmen who'd stood behind Rémy stepped forward. One removed the pistols she wore at her sides, caressing suggestively higher on her ribs than was necessary, while the other pressed himself against her from behind and removed the knives she'd strapped there. Rémy made no move to stop them, and after a moment they returned to his side like dutiful watch dogs.

"I guess I still found it hard to believe what your sister said," He mused, stepping forward. "A woman for a captain? But it is of no consequence to me. Kneel." She complied. Rémy paced in a circle around her until he stood on her left, just out of her peripheral vision. Then with one swift motion he tore the bandana from her head. She stiffened as her long, thick brown hair swung free over her back, waving a little in the breeze.

"Your sister said I would recognize you by your hair. She said you always wore something over it in battle- it was your one vanity." He circled her again. Her gaze darted to Ashli, who was on her knees too, tears still streaming down her face.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry_, she mouthed again and again.

"Do you know what they did to my parents during the Revolution? They accused them of piracy. They said they were using their ships to take goods to the emigres." He drew her cutlass and threw the scabbard away to one side, then lay the blade gently along her neck. A visible shiver ran through her. Stephen ached with the urge to leap to his feet and tear the cutlass away. It wasn't even clean yet.

"After they set them on the same level with people like you, they sent my parents to meet that sharp-witted female, la Guillotine. Truly, I have never seen a bloodier way to die."

The cutlass went up and then down again in a swift flash of sun. Ashli screamed, and Dominic along with her. Stephen was certain his heart had stopped. For a moment he was struck blind by the flash of light off of the blade. He heard a choking sound and feared to see again- but when he did, Cora was still breathing. Her hair slid down her back and to the deck. The longest layer now reached only to her ears.

"A fine blade." Rémy remarked, observing it. "How do you feel now, Captain? How do you feel now that the one thing that made you feel beautiful is gone?"

She said nothing. She tilted her head back and looked at him with a blend of hatred and desperation.

"If you're going to kill me, at least spare us the show. And don't do it in front of my son."

With the same lightning fastness he'd used when he wielded the cutlass, Rémy drew his foot back and hammered it into Cora's ribs, sending her into a roll across the deck. She sat up, swaying, just as he caught up.

"I haven't killed you yet, captain, because I don't understand you yet. I want to know what sort of monster I have in my net. I heard all about your little love affair with the surgeon- how you killed your own mother to aid the Royal Navy." He spat the words. Jack tensed at Stephen's side, a low growl in his throat. "You had a chance to turn back from this wretched life then, and yet you came here. You brought your son with you!" He kicked her again. She didn't even roll this time. She lay still and didn't even cough.

"You were sentimental enough to follow a letter from your sister, thinking you could somehow find redemption. Thinking you were _worth_ saving. But you're not. You're a _pirate_, born and bred. There is no salvation for you, whatever pardon you may have been given."

Cora straightened up very carefully, remaining on one knee and tilting her head back to meet Rémy's eyes. Her shoulders straightened. Rémy's assault had led them to the larboard rail, several feet away from where they started, and Stephen barely noticed it when one of her hands dropped to rest on her boot.

"You're right," She whispered. "I am a pirate. And your first mistake was trusting me with my hands unbound."

In one movement more graceful than either of Rémy's she was on her feet, the knife she kept always hidden in her boot in her hand. She stepped back in time to avoid a swift tide of red stained her clothes as she slit his throat. His body had barely hit the deck before she dove again, reaching for a bucket of arms that had been forgotten. One Frenchman had sense enough to fire before she picked them up. She had the sense to fire as many of the pistols as she could over their heads before Jack turned and dove at his captor, leading the surge of resistance.

The French had no time to react. They were utterly overwhelmed in moments and cried their surrender before they accurately knew what to do. Jack dove for the lieutenant before he could cross the plank back to the _Fraternité_ and warn those left behind. He leveled the bayonet at his throat.

"_Nous capitulons! Nous capitulons_!" The man cried, dropping his weapons. The others soon followed suit.

Gibbs and Finn took over the crew, beginning the arduous task of determining who was alive and what repairs were needed most urgently. Jack and Anamaria began to organize their prisoners and confirm the terms of surrender. Stephen knew he should be heading to his sick-bay. He'd be needed there soon. But instead his feet carried him to where Cora knelt on the deck, still catching her breath. Her back was to him; he could see the thin stream of blood flowing from her right shoulder blade. One of the French sailors had managed to shoot her when she went for the bucket of pistols. He'd worried for it then, but seeing it now he realized it was lodged shallowly and would need no extensive surgery.

"I'll need to remove that bullet very soon." He whispered nonetheless.

She nodded but didn't bother to rise. She could hear Dominic racing towards her. He paid no mind to her wound as he wrapped himself around her. Then again, she didn't either.  
Stephen was on the verge of walking away when Cora caught his hand once more and drew her down to him. It was the most natural thing in all the world then to put his arms around them both and bury his head in Dominic's soft curls. His other hand found Cora's shorn hair and his heart ached for the lost beauty- but it would grow back, with enough time. There were some wounds time would always be able to heal.

"Cora?"

They knew when they heard the sound of chains rattling across the deck that they'd have to stand now and break their tight embrace, but when Ashli's voice sounded beside them they found it strangely hard. Dominic was the most difficult to convince; even after they pried him from his mother he clung stubbornly to Stephen's hand.

"Hello, Ashli."

"Cora, I didn't want to do it- he captured me- he-"

"Hush."

It was all she needed to say. A fresh torrent of tears covered Ashli's face. Cora just guided her sister's head to rest on her shoulder and rocked them both gently, stroking her hair.

"I understand what happened. You don't need to explain anything to me."

"He made me write the letter, but I meant everything it said."

"I know you did, love. We're safe now. That's all that matters. All I need is for you to promise me that we'll never be separated like this again."

"I will." Ashli whispered when the tears stopped.

"Pirate's honor?" Cora asked, holding out her right hand when she stepped back.

"Aye. Pirate's honor." They clasped hands so tightly their knuckles went white.

"Momma?" Dominic asked then, leaving Stephen to tug on Cora's hand. "She looks like the lady in the picture at home. Who is she?"

"She's your Aunt Ashli, darling."

"I thought you were mad at her."

"Well," Cora smiled softly. "I think it's safe to say that time is past."

"A son?" Ashli asked. Cora shook her head once, and then she nodded and wiped her eyes as best as she was able. "Home. Let's go there. I'm so ready to go home, Cora."

Another shadow crossed Cora's face.

"There's something I have to do here at the Isla de Tesoro first, and then I must go to Port Royal. But you can take Dominic with you to Alameade. I'll return in a matter of days."

"At the Isla de Tesoro? You mean the money, don't you?"

"So it is here?"

"What's left of it, yes. I've been using a little of it each year. I haven't your skill at seafaring, I'm afraid. I'm a bad pirate, and all that."

"How much is left?"

"A fair £9,000 I should say. I haven't counted it all. Why do you ask?"

Cora closed her eyes in a brief moment of relief.

"Later, Ashli. Later. Right now I'm just glad to be alive again."

Her sister smiled, knowing just what she meant.

* * *

A/N-- Whew. That was a close one! I was working up a sweat writing that chapter for you. How'd it make you feel? Drop me a line and let me know (just like **silverwolf of the night**, **Oriana8** and **Kelly Tolkien** did)! It's good for the soul. You know it is. Besides, you won't have much more of a chance after this. We only have one more chapter to go and then an epilogue, and we're through.

On a random side note, I was reading a book called _the Courtesan_ earlier today. It's set in Renaissance France, but a character happened to pop up named Stephen Villiers. Anyone who has read the Aubrey-Maturin series should get a kick out of that one :-) Talk about irony, eh?


	11. Terms of Surrender

A/N-- Small disclaimer: I have no notion of how spades is actually played, or if it was around in the early 19th century. It was the only card game with partners I could think of.

Huzzah for the return of the proper dividers!

* * *

Chapter Eleven  
Terms of Surrender  
_in which ghosts are laid to rest_

"Damn it all to hell, Jack, if you would simply hold still I would be able to get it sufficiently tight!"

Jack ignored the stream of irate Catalan that followed in favor of continuing to watch the progress aboard the _Fraternité_. He was organizing the repairs and prisoners (more were coming over from the _Rising Star_, where they'd made up a full half of the crew) there when Stephen appeared, prodded him in all the places where it hurt, and pronounced that he had sprained his wrist, bruised several bones in his back and given himself a mild concussion. He then proceeded to try and wrap the wrist, which had already failed twice.

The flow of Stephen's rage transferred to Cora when she hobbled over to them- she'd hurt an ankle at some point in the battle and was beginning to feel it sorely. She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to take a breath before attempting to speak.

"Most everything is in order on the _Deliverance_ now. I came to ask if you were ready to begin moving the sick onto the Isla de Tesoro."

"Indeed I am. You may care for your wrist yourself, Jack Aubrey. And you are to come with me, Captain Turner. I want that bullet out directly, and I do not like the aspect of that ankle either. You are to remain lying down for the remainder of the day until I can determine what you have managed to do to it."

"Yes, sir." She said, with only a little mockery.

It was a tedious business moving the wounded. One or two at a time lay in the boats. One died on the way. His hammock was already with them, so they sewed him up and hefted the weighted body over the side before they ever reached the shore.

Beyond the shoulder of rock that sheltered the Isla de Tesoro lay a flat expanse of gold sand, the length of two ships on the shore and probably as long on the side. There was little else besides a small stand of jungle trees, the _Star_ at her moorings, and the camps they'd made. Stephen wondered briefly where the money was, but fell into the rhythm of his work too soon to find an answer.

Cora fell asleep the moment she lay wincing down on a cot, and she waved Stephen away when he tried to tend to her- there were others who needed it more. The toll so far was 34 wounded, 14 dead- 8 of those Deliverances, 6 Limericks. The blow, when it fell, would be hard. These crews had known each other off and on for over twelve years. The blow was always hard.

Before Stephen could come to her again, a sailor came to him with a message from Jack- he, in his humble opinion, believed that the French surgeon needed help. Help was an understatement- he didn't have the slightest idea what he was doing. Most of the hurts Stephen had to undo were those caused by an unsteady hand with a scalpel, not a sword or a cannon. By the time he was finished there and paused to eat a little, the afternoon had moved well along. The carpenters had pressed every available sailor into service while he was aboard the _Fraternité_ and no one could be spared to take him back to the Isla de Tesoro until after the hands had been piped to dinner.

His patients there had held up well. Only one death was imminent, so long as nothing drastic happened. He was free at last to go to the captain who'd insisted she needed no help. He stepped into the tent the sailors insisted she take with quiet reverence, lighting the candles that had gone out as he went to the back where she lay on her cot. She lay on her stomach, as she always did. Her strange fringe of shorn hair fell across her face in the candlelight. He resisted the urge to brush it back.

She didn't rouse at the first light touch of his hand on her shoulder, but when it turned to a long, soft caress she stirred with a small groan. Her first reaction was to smile at him with a drowsy, languid sort of joy.

"How much did you drink?" He sighed, even though he'd already seen the bottle beside her.

"It hurt so badly. I didn't have anything else."

"I have laudanum for you."

"No. I've always done without."

"As you wish." He left the bottle on the table at her side anyway.

He went to cut away her shirt, but she sat up and pulled it over her head instead. He averted his eyes but caught a glimpse of her naked torso nonetheless. He pretended it didn't unnerve him when he put his spectacles back on to look at the wound. It didn't look like he'd have to make an incision- only pull the bullet out and sew up the cut.

"Bite down," He instructed softly, giving her the piece of wood with its deep grooves. She did so, her eyes sliding closed. She was remarkably relaxed, and he thanked the rum privately before he went to do the deed.

There was one moment- just one, when the bullet was about to come free of her skin -when all the muscles of her back went taut and he could hear her teeth grind against the wood, when he lost the detachment that made the world of surgery so pleasing to him. The innate sensuality of the gesture nearly made him shiver; he jerked the bullet free and sewed her up as quickly as he could. Another scar to join the multitude on her back- a scar his hands would never trace at night when he couldn't sleep.

When he stood to leave, she pulled him back and kissed him- a warm kiss, her mouth slack with relaxation against his, as comfortable as the fit of a violin in its case.

"Don't leave," She said when he pulled away.

It was a heady offer- an intoxicating one.

"I can't make that promise."

"Pretend that you can."

So he sat her at bedside until she was relaxed with sleep, her hand in his. Then he stood and let his eyes rove over her naked back once more before he pulled the covers over her, blew out the candles, and left her in darkness. He tried a second time to write to Diana. He couldn't even set his quill to the paper.

* * *

One patient died overnight, but that had been an expected lost. They took him back to the _Deliverance_ to be sent over the side into the deeper water. Stephen stayed behind with his other patients when they did so; he was with Anamaria when they heard the distant sound of a splash. She tensed, making him miss a stitch on her wound. Privately, he worried for her. She'd been shot where her neck met her shoulder and took a wicked slash on her thigh. She'd lost a good deal of blood before Stephen managed to sew her up, and she was no longer as young as her counterparts.

"Once we make sail, you are to take on only minimal duties. I will ensure that Captain Turner is aware of this, and that she enforces it."

"You could call her Cora, you know." Anamaria murmured.

"It doesn't seem appropriate now."

She said nothing else, but the glare she gave him when he packed up his things and moved away left him wondering what he'd done wrong.

He went back out into the warm sunlight and saw Dominic running in and out of the surf with Ashli watching nearby. She'd dragged a cot out there and Cora reclined in it under the shade of a tree, her swollen ankle heavily wrapped and propped up on pillows.

"Don't let him get too far, he isn't a strong swimmer yet!"

"Stop worrying. He's doing fine!"

"Ashli, those waves are higher than his head, get him to come back!"

"If you can't relax out here, I'll just take you back to your tent."

"I can't believe I'm taking orders from my little sister." Cora mumbled, leaning back and reaching for the bottle at her side as Stephen approached and knelt in the sand at her side. She glanced at him and said nothing.

"Is that rum for further medicinal use, or are you abusing it again?"

"It would be a greater abuse if you kept her from it." Ashli replied, turning to him. A chill ran through Stephen unbidden. She had the same hauteur, the same air of imperious command that her dead mother had carried around her like a thick cloak.

"Let him alone, Ashli. And mind Dominic! Look, the waves have knocked him over. Bring him back before he drowns."

"Good God, that poor child must have no fun at all with you as a mother." Ashli cried, throwing her hands up in the air.

"I can't recall the last time drowning was considered fun!" Cora shouted as the younger woman ran off into the surf, seizing her nephew and spinning him around. "She hasn't changed at all."

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"The best I ever have the day after I drank an entire bottle of rum. There are other patients that need your attention." She looked away from him, searching for the bottle and taking another drink.

"Yes, but I had rather thought they didn't want it as much as you did."

"Maybe it's a good thing that you're leaving," Cora sighed, taking his hand. "You and I can't seem to get by a day without arguing."

"Neither can Jack and I, and we've remained friends through every imaginable trial for eleven years now."

She lay back on her mound of pillows, her thumb tracing circles over his knuckles, and said nothing. She passed him the bottle instead, and despite the disapproving glances he always cast her, he took a drink too. Putting their lips to the rim of the same bottle was the closest they could come to a kiss when nearly the entire crew was watching.

Ashli returned not long after that, Dominic wet and squirming under her arm.

"Well, now that the sawbones has been welcomed into our circle with a drink, I say we start a game of cards."

"Cards? What could we play with three people?"

"Oh, I've already spoken to that Navy captain that's traipsing around with you. He's going to play too."

"How quickly you make friends, my dear." Cora said dryly. "Pray tell, how did you drag the captain from the duties he gave himself aboard the _Fraternité_?"

"With the promise of some drink and a game of cards. He's gone to fetch a deck, in fact."

"Good. Then while we wait for his return, you can find a place for Dominic to stay that isn't so surrounded by debauchery."

"You must mean relatively speaking, considering the company we keep on this island." Ashli snorted. "Come on, Dominic."

Jack returned before Ashli did. He carried a small table, while a pair of sailors behind him carried pillows and a blanket.

"This way we needn't sit in the sand." He beamed, directing the set up. He and Stephen sat directly across from each other, intending to be partners, and when Ashli returned her back was to the ocean and her face was smiling at her sister.

"What do we say to a game of spades, hm?" She asked. "Do you still remember how to play, Cora?" Her manner was strangely coy when she asked.

Cora smiled back, her feline grin matching her sister's.

"Of course I do, Ashli."

When they won the first game, it was no terrible loss; to Stephen's disappointment, they didn't intend to lay down any money that day. The second game carried with it some small measure of pride. By the fourth game, the greater part of the bottle was gone and Jack was finally inebriated enough to accuse the two women of cheating.

"Cheating? Cheating?" Ashli laughed. "Sister, shall we dignify that with an answer?"

"Indeed we shall not! Cheating would make us pirates!"

"And if we were pirates, they should've expected us to cheat!"

They raised the glasses they'd sent for to each other in toast, and as they drank them down Stephen realized that he'd never heard Cora look so at home with the word 'pirate' before. He smiled at Jack, and they decided to let them cheat a little more.

* * *

Cora and Ashli gave up cheating around afternoon, when the dice games came out. It was a little harder to cheat at a game of chance anyway. They paused only for dinner, and afterwards felt too replete with satisfaction to rouse themselves to any kind of great activity.

"Help me to bed, Ashli." Cora said as the sun was setting. Stephen had gone to make his rounds again; Jack was snoring on the table. "Where did you leave Dominic?" She asked as they neared her tent.

"He's with Finn and his men. They promised to behave like good Papists in his presence, for once. And I thought that would be where you wanted him."

"What is your meaning?"

Ashli paused, flicking her dark brown eyes to meet her sister's grey-blue ones.

"Finn... he's Dom's father, isn't he? I always wondered how long it would take the two of you to tear each other's clothes off."

"No, Ashli. Finn isn't his father."

Ashli was silent.

"Then who?"

Cora took a deep breath as they entered her tent. In the close darkness, she felt safer saying it.

"Stephen."

"The sawbones? Him?"

"Aye."

Ashli drew in a breath, then let it out slowly as Cora hobbled to her cot and sat. "I see. When you were held prisoner on that ship."

"Don't insinuate that I was less than willing. I'll bet that's what everyone wanted to believe about what happened to me there. The terrible Navy, trying to ruin our lives again, seducing the eldest daughter from her duty to her family. The simple truth of it is that I realized at last that a pirate's life was no longer the life for me when I first saw him. I realized that I had to get out, or our mother would destroy me."

"She was just grieving- we could've tried to save her-"

"Ashli, you can't be naive about this. Or maybe that's truly how she was to you. She was always different with you- you were born the day Black Wolf came back to us. You represented the start a better time. But I always reminded her of everything she'd lost. She would've destroyed me first, Ashli, and I don't think you would've been safe for much longer either. None of us were."

Ashli sat down stiffly beside Cora on the bed, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance that her sister could only guess at.

"So you betrayed us for him?"

"No, Stephen was... he was just the thing that got everything else started. If I hadn't... fallen in love with him I could've kept on doing what we were doing for much longer out of simple conformity and fear. But once I was with him I realized that there was another life I wanted."

"Yet you didn't marry him."

It was a statement, not a question.

Cora laughed bitterly. "I knew I wanted another life, but I didn't really know what that other life was."

"I'll tell you the life I want now." Ashli said. "I want to keep being a pirate. I'm not particularly good at it, but I love it with every fiber of my being. We were never meant to be caged, sister. I don't want to lose you again but... I don't want to lose the sea either. Freedom is my greatest aspiration."

"Are we little girls again, sharing our dreams?" Cora smiled. "Do you remember you told me you wanted to marry a prince?"

"Aye. What better way to have fine things?"

"You always were like Grandfather Caylyn: velvet and lace and your best boots, even if you were heading into certain death."

Their speech withered away in the utter comfort of simple presence.

"What is the life you want, Cora?"

She swallowed to wet her dry throat before she spoke. "I want Dominic and I to live on Alameade in the big house. I want Dom to have a tutor to give him all the answers I can't. I want you to live with us too- when you're not out doing your trade, respectable and not," Shared laughter. "I want Finn to visit us, and our grandparents too. I want all of us to go sailing on the _Deliverance_ when we can."

"And Stephen?" Ashli asked delicately.

"I can't tell you how much I want him to be part of that life too. I just can't see how it would work."

"It will. It will."

"We aren't little girls anymore, Ashli."

"I know. Does that mean I can't spend the night with you in here?"

She smiled again, rubbing her hand on her sister's back. "Of course not."

The cot was narrow, but neither of them was much bigger than the last night they curled up together. They stripped to their shirts and slid into the same position they always did- both on their stomachs, but with their shoulders and feet touching and their faces turned together, waiting to catch any whispered dreams that might slip free while they slept.

* * *

Anamaria improved the next day, very slightly. Color was returning to her cheeks and staying awake for Stephen's examination was no longer such a task. She was the last of his rounds that morning, and Jack joined him just as he finished cleaning her wounds. Stephen had only to glance at him once to know that there was something he needed to say.

"Do you think that the wounded will stand up to a journey?" He asked the moment the sunlight touched their faces.

"I should like to continue caring for them here on dry land, but I would allow them aboard a ship again."

"Today, even?"

"Yes, if pressed. Is Cora considering leaving?"

"She hasn't said anything. Not directly. But the repairs are finished, and if you tell her that our wounded are hardy enough for a journey I'm sure we could get underway again."

"Are you intending to bring this up yourself?"

"...I'd rather hoped you would, old soul. It's been two weeks now, you know, since Tom left us in Port Royal..."

"May I remind you that the note he left with us said that he'd be back in _no less_ than two weeks?"

"It don't signify, Stephen. He can't be waiting for us there forever- no more than three days I'll wager. We _must_ be back there before he is."

Stephen watched the surf running up and down the shoreline. Gulls collected on the dry parts of it, still half asleep. They were rudely awakened when Dominic went charging through, sending them in a flurry of white against the lightening sky with his shrieks.

"He'll never make a naturalist that way." Jack remarked. "Shouldn't you go and correct him?"

Stephen said nothing for a moment. "I'll go speak with his mother instead."

Cora wasn't in her tent; Ashli was there instead. She was leaning over a desk looking at charts, an apple in one hand, when he entered. She looked at him a little differently that morning than she had when they played cards, and Stephen knew instantly that Cora had told her who the father of the boy outside chasing the sea gulls was.

"Cora isn't here." She said, as if it wasn't already obvious.

"Might I ask where she is?"

"She went to the cave to see about the money. She intends to set sail today."

Stephen nodded. His mission was accomplished for him. Yet he couldn't stop himself- the thought of her was under his skin.

"Where is the cave?"

"Go straight towards the trees. The entrance is to the left in the rock."

"My thanks, Miss Turner."

The name felt foreign on his tongue. The last time he'd said it was seven years before- to Cora. He must've frozen at the thought, searching Ashli's face for some clue to the mystery of her sister's, because the look in her eyes changed. She studied him as openly for a moment, seeking the measure of the man who'd ended her world. Then, as she raised the apple to her lips and took another bite, it shifted into the look Anamaria had given him when he referred to Cora as Captain Turner- the look that said he wasn't doing quite what he ought to be doing.

He made a leg in lieu of a good-bye and went back out into the sun. It had grown harsher in his short time inside the dim tent, and it was a small sort of relief to put his back to it and go towards the cool jungle. The liquid shadows of night had yet to dry here, and the entrance to the cave hid coyly in them. It was even cooler within, making the sweat beneath his clothes dry as he stepped forward into the room revealed.

It was the height of a house's roof, but the walls were rough and sloping. A small spring bubbled up from the ground and ran in a circle around the mound in the middle. A large chest sat on the mound, and it was before this that Cora knelt with a sack at her side.

"You're lucky to have money left. Anyone could simply step inside here and see what lay in the chest for themselves."

Cora started slightly, glancing at him and smiling, before going back to filling the sack.

"Aye, but they wouldn't touch a thing in this chest if they'd heard of the terrible curse that came with it. My Grandfather, Caylyn, styled this place after the Isla de Muerta for a reason."

"The Isle of Death?"

She laughed indulgently, the same way he heard her laughing at Dominic's plans to explore the world and learn the name of every creature in it.

"The Isla de Muerta was an island that could only be found by those who already knew where it was. Hidden on this island was a chest of priceless Aztec gold, the bloody money of Hernando Cortez. Of course, there was a curse on it- anyone who removed so much as one piece was left neither living nor dead, starving and unable to die, unable to feel the spray of the sea. My grandparents- Will and Elizabeth, and Jack too -found the island and raised the curse. Conveniently, it disappeared afterwards."

"And you believe their story?"

"Difficult question, that." She finished emptying the chest of its gold and secured the sack. She hefted it onto her back and stood before him. "I suppose you could say I believe the spirit of the stories I grew up with, if not every detail. Jack Sparrow does have a flare for embellishment. Did," She said after a frowning pause. "He still seems alive to me, sometimes." She made no move to leave then, as if the strength of her memory might conjure him at any moment.

"I hear we are to set sail for Port Royal today."

"Yes. It's been two weeks, after all. I promised to have you back."

She left quickly then, ignoring the weight of the gold. There were no memories to hold him there, and so Stephen followed. As he walked across the beach, telling himself he wasn't following her, he tried to imagine how he'd meet Diana again when he returned to England. Perhaps he could accomplish that, if he couldn't write a letter. Where would she be? He would need to discover that first. He wished they could be back at Mapes, under the false pagoda tree, or in her old rooms. Some place that was before all of this.

He realized it as he watched Cora load the sack of gold into a longboat. It was a mundane motion. It was not a flattering position. But it struck him all at once that he couldn't imagine accepting Diana's proposal after everything that had happened in the years between the day they first met and this. There was no letter to be written, no meeting to anticipate. What he wanted was standing not two hundred feet away from him, with only so much sunlit air to separate them.

Naturally, life gave him no repose in which he could ponder his new discovery. They'd already spotted the sails on the horizon.

* * *

Jack was floating around the _Deliverance_'s hold, seeing to it that their stores were stowed anew at last and feeling only mild satisfaction when he felt the ship begin to float more evenly in the water, when they passed the word for him.

Following the summons was as natural as breathing. There was a sacredness in them- pass the word for Captain Aubrey, here is something that requires his attention and no one else's, here is a problem we couldn't solve by ourselves -that even saltwater couldn't wear away. It gave him the sense of control that he so relished about the sea. He'd felt restless as a caged beast beneath the decks of the _Deliverance_, waiting on orders to set sail, but now as he stepped out into the keen morning air he was filled with purpose. Even the sighting of the sails coming towards them from the west didn't deter him. He made his way across the planks leading to the _Fraternité_, who remained in the same position she had during their battle.

"We've been waiting for them to show their colors for some time now, Captain. They just sent up that signal- but I can't remember what it means." Joshamee Gibbs said, handing him a spyglass when he reached the starboard rail.

"It's a private Navy signal," Jack replied, his heart beating a little faster. "She's trying to discern our identities."

"We have a full set of flags on hand. What should we signal back?"

Jack turned the idea over in his head. He was about to suggest that they signaled their neutral status and perhaps even turn the _Fraternité _and her prisoners over to them. Cora did say something about doing that in the past. But then he let his eyes run over her once more- she was a frigate much along the lines of the dear old _Surprise_ -and lingered there to watch as she began a turn that would soon put her broadside on. She wasn't more than half a mile away- within distance to fire. It was then that he was able to read the name on the side.

"By God- that's the _Renown_! The ship we were traveling on!" Then his joy began to fade. "Tom's orders- he said he'd be back in two weeks- he was after a French privateer- "

It didn't take a gifted leader to realize that they were standing on the deck of said privateer.

Jack leapt onto the railing, seizing the speaking trumpet from Gibbs's hand and shouted into it desperately.

"Captain Pullings, do not fire. We've captured the Fraternité. We are not your enemies. Captain Pullings, do not fire! Where are those flags, god damn you?" The last was to the sailor they'd sent in search of them, whose hands were empty.

"We can't find them, sir!"

Before Jack could even raise the speaking trumpet to his lips again, he heard the sharp crack of gunfire. A sharp pain in his arm- he was falling backwards. Then a sharper pain in his head- nothing.

* * *

Tom Pullings had once had no greater ambition in life than to be a lieutenant under Jack Aubrey. That made it somewhat of a shock when he became a captain. In fact, those first few hours of freedom aboard the _Acheron_ were the loneliest and most dazed of his life. He turned constantly to the quarterdeck, expecting to find his idol and finding himself utterly alone with a ship full of hostile prisoners whose language he didn't speak with any degree of proficiency.

In a way, Captain Aubrey's discovery that their doctor was not a doctor at all came as a sort of relief. It was embarrassing to be escorted into Valparaiso, true, but comforting all the same. It had been a lovely little jaunt, but he expected now that he could stop playing at being a captain and go back to the security of first lieutenant. Jack wouldn't let him, and suddenly the fact that they could no longer serve together was the proudest moment of their long history.

Tom Pullings was a post captain now, but he was sent ricocheting back to his days as a sniveling midshipman when Jack Aubrey swept aboard the _Renown_ like an angry storm cloud.

"Damn your eyes, Tom, why didn't you stop when I called you?"

Of course, it was rather hard to be full of righteous indignation when you could scarcely stand aright on your own two feet. Tom saw the deep gash in Jack's arm and the glazed cast of his eyes and not long afterwards discovered that his warning shots had severed the thick rigging beside the mainmast Jack had clung to, sending him flying backwards and likely knocking him unconscious.

Tom opened his mouth to pass the word for the surgeon- then remembered that the surgeon was their other wayward passenger.

"Captain, where is Doctor Maturin? He must have a look at this."

"He's back on the Isla de Tesoro with the rest of the crew."

"I must beg your forgiveness for leaving you behind in Port Royal, Captain. It grieved me extremely. Our orders were terribly urgent- the _Fraternité_ had been sighted near us and we didn't want to lose her, slippery as she was" He laughed aloud. "And then I find her already taken a prize, and you in command of her. Whatever happened, Captain?"

Then Jack told him- finding the pirate he'd once saved in Port Royal, journeying with her to Alameade to relieve the monotony, tangling with the_ Fraternité_ in the midst of a storm and leaving her to lurk in these waters waiting for a return. He told them about that trap the twice cursed Frenchman had laid- using the captain's own sister as bait.

Tom felt heavier in his seat by the time the tale was done. His highest ambition had been to be a lieutenant under Jack Aubrey. He'd never expected to follow in his footsteps. Yet here he stood at the same crossroads Jack had reached five years before- he had a band of very questionable pirates in his hands now, pirates that had done something to aid the Crown... but were pirates nonetheless.

"Would it be possible for me to speak with Captain Turner... both of them? Do they still remain here?"

"Yes. We were preparing to make sail for Port Royal today, actually, to meet up with you. Fate is a prodigious strange bird, ain't she, Tom?"

"Indeed she is, sir." He murmured.

The sisters Turner were already on their way to the _Renown _by the time they sent a sailor looking for them, and it took no great amount of time for them to arrive in the captain's cabin. Tom's head was swimming of the stories he'd heard about the elder- that Jack was a fool to let her go, that he was noble to do so, and the whispered ones about why her absence struck Stephen Maturin so deeply. None of them could prepare him for the shock of their attire- breeches and linen shirts, and covered in soot in blood at that! They had a hardness in their eyes and a strength in their bearing- especially in the elder -that he'd never seen in women before. Making a leg seemed a condescending gesture. They deserved his hand. They were his equals.

"Captain Tom Pullings at your service." He said, bowing stiffly.

"Captain Ashli Turner at yours." The younger one said, her chin lifted and her rich brown eyes staring directly into his.

"Cora Turner." The elder said, more softly.

"Please, be seated. Would you care for a drink? It is my understanding that you have captured the French privateer I was seeking."

"Yes, we did. And I am more than willing to turn her over into your hands." Cora said after she'd taken a seat. She moved gingerly across the room and he was stunned to see that one of her feet was bare but for linen wrappings. She'd injured herself in the fight somehow. Tom sighed raggedly, hating to think of the sacrifice he must now destroy.

"You have placed us in an awkward situation," He fought not to add _once more_.

Without that tiny phrase, he suddenly had nowhere to turn. How had Jack made the decision five years before to let her go? How had he known it was right? How had he known to trust her?

The room was stale with tension as Tom closed his eyes, pinching his forehead and willing him back to that blissful state of first lieutenant- respected, admired, powerful, but not responsible for a decision such as this. It was his duty to capture the _Fraternité_ and bring her to port. She was practically being given to him. But it was also his duty to hang pirates.

"We've done you a great service. Why can't you simply turn the other cheek and let us go?" Ashli asked coldly, sensing his train of thought with a bloodhound's ruthless precision.

"Because, Miss Turner, I was also to detain and destroy if possible the pirate that had been harassing ships of the fleet and stealing from ships of the East India Trading Company. When I last made port, I discovered that the name of this ship was the _Rising Star_, and that she was captained by a woman named Ashli Turner."

"No," Cora whispered before she could stop herself. "Ashli, tell me you didn't."

"I did what I had to. I did the only thing I knew." She sat straight and proud. "I am what I am. I have no reason to be ashamed or frightened."

"Have you no fear for the noose? For God's sake Ashli, have some sense!" Cora turned quickly to face him. "Please, my sister hasn't had the chance I had. She hasn't had a chance to see another life. Let me help her, let me give her another chance."

"Unfortunately, Miss Turner, being in your sister's presence puts yourself in danger. If I recall the terms of your pardon- and Captain Aubrey may correct me on this -you were to remain under no suspicion so long as you engaged in no acts of piracy and did not associate with known pirates."

He could feel the room go still again. This time even Ashli looked daunted.

"Do you mean... if I keep being a pirate, even if Cora isn't... she can be hanged too?"

"I am afraid so."

"And you could hang me now?"

"...that is the fate for most pirates that cross with the Navy."

"But she has shown no hostility. If she and her crew surrender willingly, can they be sent to jail as before?" Cora asked.

"I'm afraid not. The Admiralty wouldn't believe I'd fallen for the same trick twice."

"You're going to hang me?" Ashli's voice was barely a whisper.

Tom saw her grasp her sister's hand until it was white-knuckled and knew that this would be one of the moments in his life that never dimmed or faded away. It reminded him of the moment Jack first told him he was a captain- the way he felt when he put his hat back on for the first time and realized that there was something beyond even his wildest fantasies. He knew that whatever decision he made here, he would never forget those few moments before he made it.

He rose from his chair and went to the wide windows at the ship's stern. Here was the edge of his demesne, the very limits of his power. It was well within his power now to destroy not one but two lives with one noose, to be praised for valor and never questioned or shunned as his idol was. But he couldn't imagine it any other way, really, because he'd never had any greater ambition than to be a lieutenant under Jack Aubrey.

"There's a fine southerly wind here today. One could run all the way to the United States on it, I'd wager." He paused but didn't turn from the window, soothed by the sight of the sparkling sea. "But with the American resentment towards the British after our... seizure of their ships and impressment of their men has made their ports a dangerous place for a ship like the _Renown_. Dangerous enough," He paused again, and this time turned to meet Ashli's eyes. "That nearing one would be a justifiable reason to call off a pursuit." (1)

He watched the information flash through the young woman's eyes as she burrowed her way through his light tone to the suggestion buried in his words. Her hand tightened around sister's once more.

"Thank you, sir," She said. "Thank you."

Tom Pullings, post captain, decided that he could now have no greater ambition than to find a moment more fulfilling than this.

* * *

Cora could feel the southerly breeze all too well when she stood on the deck of the _Rising Star_. Her crew was skeletal at best- underfed and cramped from days of captivity aboard the _Fraternité_ -but they would get themselves to America. Or so she prayed.

"Don't overpress your sails with this wind. You'll steal the power right out of it. Avoid your studdings'ls, I know you have an undue fondness for them. Do you know where you are headed for? Go for the southern states, Georgia or Alabama, a port there is just the same as Boston-"

"Hush."

It was all Ashli needed to say, and then every unsaid word they'd dreaded evicting from that tight place in their chest was free. Cora clutched Ashli with a fierceness she'd never felt before.

"Fly, Ashli. Reach for that horizon."

"And you reach for yours. Don't let it slip away."

Cora didn't need to ponder Ashli's words. Their meaning was made apparent to her only moments after they left her lips, when she heard Finn calling out to her from a nearby longboat.

"They're leaving," He shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth. "The captain and the doctor are leaving!"

She was shaking when she climbed down the side of the Star and into the longboat. It was to be expected. What was the point of going to Port Royal now that the _Renown_ had come to them? Yet she still felt robbed of those last two days. How could she begin to say good-bye?

Jack's things were already being sent over to the _Renown_; he'd been in readiness for days. But Stephen was a different matter.

"What has been done with my medicine chest? It's highly valuable, and I warn any of you that may have seen fit to steal it. I say, I'll stern haul all of you if you don't tell me where it has gone!" His voice echoed over the water as she was climbing up the side. She shivered again.

"Keel haul, Doctor. It's called keel hauling." Gibbs sighed as she set foot on the deck. "The Captain is present!" He called, noticing her.

She waved them away and began to approach Stephen. She was stopped by two strong arms around her knees.

"Momma, are they really going? Esteban and Captain Aubrey?"

"They must, darling. It's time."

He fell away from her, looking perhaps more crushed than he did on the day they left Alameade. Her heart clenched, but it was a motion she scarcely felt.

"We must hurry, Stephen. The tide will change soon." Jack called from the _Renown_.

"I refuse to leave until I've found my medicine chest. It is very valuable to me."

"A medicine chest? Is that the one that was in the tent with the wounded?" Anamaria asked from where she lay on the hammock they'd slung for her on the deck.

"The very same."

"Oh, I believe I may have dropped it when they were moving us poor invalids." She said vaguely.

"I must have a boat immediately."

Cora froze, watching him cross the deck with a power and purpose in his movements she rarely saw. She wished she could find their parting as easy as he seemed to.

"Well?" Anamaria asked as Stephen was struggling with a boat.

_And you reach for yours. Don't let it slip away._

"Let me help you with that." She called to Stephen. "I think I saw your chest earlier. I'll go with you."

"Thank you." He murmured as she helped him ready the boat. When they were safely inside and Gibbs barked at two younger sailors to begin lowering it, their closeness became cloying. There was no way to avoid each other's eyes in a longboat. It was too hard to pretend that they were both trying to memorize each other for the coming days of separation.

They said nothing on the journey to the Isla de Tesoro. Cora glanced briefly up at the Star as they passed, but didn't search too long for Ashli. That good-bye was already said, her peace already made. This one frightened her even more.

They pulled the longboat up on the shore and went immediately to the space where the tent Anamaria spoke of had once stood, but there was no sign of Stephen's chest there. They combed the beach in utter silence and still found nothing. They were ready to go back to the longboat when Cora spied a rock near the small stand of trees that had never been there before.

"Over here, Stephen." It was the first time she'd spoken since they stepped off of the _Deliverance_'s deck. Her heart sunk now, seeing that it was the chest they were seeking, the same way it sunk when they began to lower the boat down.

"Thank you." He said once more.

"I suppose we should get back to the _Deliverance_- to the _Renown_, for you." She corrected herself. "You don't want to miss your tide."

"No indeed."

He walked away from her, towards the longboat, his head bowed either to avoid the sunlight or her face. She felt a rising hysteria in her- this was her good-bye? This was all the peace he would allow her.

"No," She cried sharply, following him. He turned back to her. "You made the mistake of letting me walk away from you once. I'm not about to make the same one. I'm not strong enough to do that. I thought I could just have two weeks with you and then be fine for the next seven years or however long it would take you to come back. But I can't. I want more than that."

"I can't stay with you. I'm the _Renown_'s surgeon. I'll be labeled a deserter."

"Maybe not now, but sometime. I want you to promise me you'll come back. I want you to promise you'll stay for more than two weeks."

She watched his breathing quicken, his pulse pound in his neck.

"I could never be certain of when I'd come. Jack- who knows when he'll get a ship or how long he'll have it? And there are things- things I haven't told you- I could get called away to Spain with very short notice."

Her own mind whirled now. How would it ever work? Could she really stand to be waiting on him forever, clinging to memories between visits that might come only once a year?

Yes. God, yes. As long as she knew he was coming back. Coming home.

"I want you to spend every summer that you can with us. I'll come and visit you in England when you can't make it here. I don't care how you do it, or how you get here, but I want to see you every year. I want you. I love you."

He was silent for far too long. His hands were white-knuckled around the medicine chest.

"Stephen Maturin, will you accept my terms of surrender?" She asked with a faint smile.

She barely caught his words before he dropped the chest and drew her close. "With all my heart, _yes_."

* * *

"All aboard, Mr. Blakeney?"

"Aye sir, all but the Doctor."

Pullings clenched his teeth, making the lanky blonde third lieutenant cringe.

"He'll be here sir, I'm sure of it. We just need to wait a little longer, sir."

"Thank you, Blakeney. Captain Aubrey," He called suddenly, seeing the broad-shouldered man stalking across the deck with a small boy at his side. "Captain Aubrey, do you know what has detained Doctor Maturin?"

"He went back to the Isla de Tesoro to fetch a medicine chest that was misplaced. He still has not returned?"

"No sir, and we are ready to make way. The _Star_ is about to leave."

"The _Deliverance_ damn well better be here. I've found one of her crew stowed away in our hold." He glared at the boy at his side, who quailed only slightly.

"I only wanted to join you, sir. I don't want to say good-bye. I was going to write back home to Momma-"

"You're going back to your mother _now_, Dominic Turner, and that is the last I am to hear of it."

Jack led Dominic over to the rail, seeking the hail the _Deliverance_. She remained not far behind them as they prepared to follow the _Star_ into the Isla de Tesoro's cove. He was just ready to call out when he noticed that Dominic's mother was not aboard the _Deliverance_ at all, but standing on the beach before him. With her was the _Renown_'s wayward doctor.

"Captain Pullings?" Jack called.

"Aye, sir."

"Is that chaplain they stuck you with still aboard?"

"Aye sir." Suspicion entered the scarred face.

"Thus, very well thus." Jack smiled. "You see, Pullings, I believe there is a wedding afoot."

Pullings followed his gaze to the beach and the sight of their doctor- their reserved, monkish doctor -mouth to mouth with a pirate, looking as if he had no intention of ever leaving.

"Well, I'll be damned." He smiled in spite of himself.

"A wedding?" Dominic asked Jack.

"Yes. I believe your mother will marry Stephen, at long last."

"So Esteban will be my father now?"

Jack smiled down at Dominic, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him a little closer.

"As he always was, lad. As he always was."

* * *

A/N-- Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! The end! Or is it? Stick around for the epilogue...

Thanks to **silverwolf of the night**, **FuchsiaII** and **Kelly Tolkien** for their reviews.

(1) For anyone who forgot our date, we're in 1812. America and Great Britain are about to begin a naval war.


	12. Epilogue: the Steepest Hill

A/N-- Here it is: the bitter end. Enjoy it while it lasts... 

I realize that this is very long, and the sad thing is that it was almost a third story. The trouble is that I simply haven't read enough of the Aubrey-Maturin series to go as far ahead in time as I want to. I really, really don't want to have to go more AU than I already have. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

There's some rated-M stuff in this chapter. Nothing too bad, but I thought I'd state it anyway.

* * *

Epilogue  
The Steepest Hill  
_in which much passes away_

_June 1, 1819_

The path up to the Starre mansion in Port Alameade was steep and winding, and even in the evening cool Stephen Maturin was sweating beneath his clothes. The climb never got easier, but he always forded on. A good many wondrous things had awaited him at the top of the hill, after all.

Six years before it was Cora, utterly naked in the summer heat, sitting on the verandah.

"I saw the Surprise this morning. I told Anamaria to take Dominic out for the day. I couldn't wait any longer." She was on her knees in front of him before they even got in the house.

A heated later, they lay on a blanket on the other side of the verandah in sight of the sea. Stephen suckled at Cora's throat, then looked up to see the graveyard beside them.

"Who is buried there?"

"Grandfather Caylyn is the tombstone there," She gestured to the simple stone rectangle on the far left. "Uncle Nathaniel is there," This was the one in the middle, the stone with a young man looking out over the sea. "And Grandmother Coraline is there," Here an angel standing on a marble stand, a baby cradled in her arms.

"I wonder if my grandmother approves of her namesake," Cora said sleepily, a little later. "Making love on a hilltop for all to see."

Stephen smiled and kissed her throat just once more.

"How did she die, love?"

"Giving birth to my mother." She kissed him lazily on the mouth, drawing him back to a place of life.

The chaplain's swift service aboard the _Renown_ a year before that had left no time for a celebration or even a wedding night- and although it was far from the first time they'd shared each other's bodies it felt as if there must be something essentially different in them now- less, passion, more duty.

She was always the one reaching out. In those first few nights of lying in the same bed stiff with awkwardness at the fresh realization that they were man and wife, she was the one who would curl up against his back and draw him close, sighing as if it was all she required in the world. It took weeks, but then Stephen was the one that woke when she moved away from him and pulled her back, that felt utterly unable to sleep those first few days back out at sea without her warmth at his side when he left her for Catalonia.

Some months later, Cora was sitting in the same place on the porch. Her clothes were filled with her stomach, heavy with child. He put his hand on the swell of her belly and felt the baby within squirm at his touch. A tremor ran through him, the news that had never seemed real in her letters now vividly before him.

"Soon," She said, putting her hand over his.

He remembered the breakfast at the top of that hill he brought Jack to a few days later, when Cora dropped the plates and looked at him with wide grey-blue eyes. "Now," She said, gripping his hand.

He didn't want to remember the delivery. He had never felt so sickened by blood as he had when he stood beside the midwife and pulled his squalling baby girl into the world. Jack still swore that Stephen fainted when he came outside to spread the news. Stephen maintained that he sat down on the verandah and merely allowed himself some much deserved rest.

A few days later he and Cora walked down the other side of the hill to the hidden beach beyond. Cora pressed his daughter into his arms and then laughed at the expression of breathless wonder on his face.

"You stare at her as if she was one of your flightless birds."

"She is at least as fascinating." She stirred and began to whimper, tiny arms outstretched. "She wants her mother. It is always so in the animal world. The father merely provides his seed." There was no small measure of regret in his voice. Cora reached out and cupped his cheek.

"We humans are rare birds, Stephen. She needs you already- she needs a name."

Stephen had tried to pass the burden to Cora countless times in the past few days. She insisted that it was his turn; she'd named Dominic all alone. Stephen didn't even know where to begin giving her the name she would be called for decades- even after he himself was gone. Now they reclined on the sand and listened to the surf, and the sense of rightness and home connected with a part of Stephen he'd long forgotten- Ireland.

"Deirdre," He said suddenly. "Let's name her Deirdre."

"Deirdre." Cora tried the name out on her tongue. "What does it mean?"

"I don't recall. Why do you ask?"

"Because names can become a terrible burden." She felt her infant mouthing at her shirt and lowered it off one shoulder, raising her newborn to her nipple. Stephen noted with approval how much darker it was, closer to wine than to a rose. He envied his daughter the pleasure of taking her life from it.

"And what burden has being named for your grandmother brought you?"

"Fear," Cora said without looking up. "But a fear that I have overcome." Now she smiled at him, and everything was set right again.

* * *

Presently, Stephen leaned against the only tree that shaded his path. He tarried for only a moment, then continued on his way.  
He remembered walking back up the same hill a year later, his heart pounding with more than just exertion. Cora was waiting for him, Deirdre at her hip. Dominic rushed out to greet him, jumping on his back and chattering about a prodigious strange bug he'd seen the day before, and just how big Viola had gotten. 

"Show me your sketch later." Stephen said, pushing his son gently away. He saw the look on his wife's face.

"You're late." Her voice was ice.

"Hello Deirdre," Stephen said in vain, looking at the child balanced on Cora's hip, her head a mess of loose brown curls, her eyes the same indeterminate shade of grey-blue as her brother's. "My God, you've grown so." He tried to reach out and touch her but she buried her face in her mother's shoulder and mumbled incomprehensibly. Without a word Cora turned and marched back inside. He followed, bracing himself for the storm.

Cora put Deirdre down in her room, soothing her to sleep, then closed her door and stalked into their room, where Stephen waited. She closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. But you know Jack- when he finds a ship he's hopelessly outmatched against, he simply must go after it. We all but circumnavigated the globe this time- I very nearly shook the masts from their places with the way I carried on at him and his-"

"I don't care, Stephen. You missed the first year of your daughter's life. You remember my terms. You should've been here months ago."

"I have never failed them before. You shouldn't fault me for one mistake."

"If I let you get away with it this time you won't feel obliged to come home next time. I'll not be married to a ghost, raising a ghost's children! I gave up my life for you, Stephen Maturin. Jack Aubrey may practically be your mistress, but I am your wife!"

He took a deep breath. A solid ache had settled into his side from the climb up the hill.

"I'm sorry. I am. You've been in my thoughts every day. I wrote to you every day. Didn't you get my letters?"

"I don't want thoughts and letters, Stephen."

"Then what do you want?"

She stepped forward and looped her arms around his neck.

"You."

He kissed her. He bunched her skirts around her hips and took her against their bedroom wall. When they came to themselves they were a crumpled heap on the floor, their lips swollen and Cora's thighs close to bruising from Stephen's grip. She pulled him down to her slowly this time. They made up for every tiny injury with the soft brush of fingertips and forgiving kisses.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted. It's just that I'm the most terrible wretch when you're not here, joy." She whispered to him later, when they finally rediscovered their bed, when Stephen's hands were running through her hair. It had begun to grow long again at last, the only visible wound of the _Fraternité_'s ire disappearing; he buried his nose in it again, winding the strands around his fingers and breathing her in.

"I find that hard to believe. Our children are so wonderfully happy. They cannot have a harpy for a mother."

She waited a moment before speaking again.

"I should like another, I think."

"One more child?"

"No, one more hornbill. I swear, if you or Dominic brings back one more strange creature and fails to lock its cage, I will personally take my cutlass to the creatures neck and possibly to yours as well..."

"Don't say that. I have finally found my lemur and I must bring her ashore for further observation before Jack intoxicates her entirely. But never mind that," He waved it aside. "Did you really mean that you wanted another child?"

"Yes. And I think you can help me with that." She rolled over onto him. Stephen lost himself in her warm kisses and forgot what it was that he wanted to say to her about having more children- about the way the last delivery had gone.

"I suppose we could do with just one more. I take joy in the fact that you're not angry with me anymore," He said in the afterglow. "I'd have hated coming up that hill again in the morning to beg your forgiveness."

* * *

Even that hill wasn't as steep as the one Stephen climbed now. No hill could be steeper, he decided. It seemed to get higher and higher every time he climbed it, and he wondered if eventually he would stop. He discarded the hypothesis immediately. He intended to die at the top of that hill one day, from apoplexy or sheer exhaustion. Or simple heartache. 

"Will you be comin' inside, sir?" Gibbs called from the doorway. He had seen Stephen coming a long time before, or perhaps sensed it in his old bones; it would not surprise Stephen in the least if he failed to outlive the ancient sailor as so many others already had. He was one of those seamen that never aged, only grew tougher with every windswept year.

"Not now, Gibbs," Stephen called back. "I'm going to visit Cora."

"...Come visit my castle in Spain," Was what he'd said two weeks after he first came home, while Cora was attempting to feed Deirdre breakfast. "Come with me to England. To Ireland."

"Now?" She asked hopelessly, as Deirdre tried to escape her mother once more, convinced that the small carved ship lying on the floor was more nutritious than her food.

"Not right this moment," Stephen answered, scooping up the toy and handing it to Deirdre, who burbled happily and ceased to fuss. "But soon. My self-imposed punishment for leaving you this year is to remain with you for as long as I am able."

"All the way to England. With the children?"

"Naturally. Deirdre should be strong enough, with the kind of woman she has for a mother. I've known other children younger than she that have made the voyage."

"And we are to remain together as long as we are able?" Cora smiled, releasing their daughter at last to crawl across the floor in search of something else to hold her attention. Stephen knelt before her and she put her hands on either side of his face. "Pray, how long do you think we will last?"

"As long as we both shall live," Stephen whispered, pulling her down for a kiss.

Anamaria and the _Deliverance_ were in the Indian ocean at that time, and so they had to find another ship to take them to Gibraltar. It was a rather novel experience for Cora, being on a ship that she did not command. She often laughed at the feeling that she had nothing to do. Stephen and Dominic were always well employed- Dominic's Catalan had faded in the year Stephen was gone, but within a week of traveling their voices already filled the ship with the strange language. Cora became so used to hearing it that one night when they lay entwined in the darkness of their cabin she whispered _Esteban_ by accident. It made him smile with a simple pleasure she saw too little.

By the time they reached Gibraltar Deirdre was no longer afraid of her father- she called him Papà just as her older brother did. He looked on it as his solemn duty to protect her and teach her the Catalan he learned.

"I shall find _some _way of teaching her." He would sigh dramatically when she decided he was no longer interesting and stumbled off across the deck in pursuit of something more fascinating. She was never easily amused.

"She's too much like her Aunt Ashli." Cora often sighed, especially when they knew that America was close off their larboard bow. Ashli had remained there since they parted at the Isla de Tesoro that hot July day in 1812.

"Do you miss her?"

"Of course I do. We write sometimes, but it's gotten so hard now." She laughed. "You'll never believe it- she's settled down in Georgia and married a Frenchman. He's an exiled privateer named Renard. God love them both, they'll tear each other to pieces in a year. I never thought Ashli would marry."

None of them liked the overland journey to the castle in Catalonia. They could bear the heat when surrounded by boundless cobalt ocean, but here in the Pyrenees it was less than enchanting. Dominic loved every part of the land, and Cora admitted she found it beautiful, but Deirdre complained strenuously and drew all of their nerves to their very ends. She was much happier when she discovered that incomprehensible marble bath in the castle, and insisted she take a bath in it every day.

"She'll have a taste for fine things when she grows older. Thank God there are few enough eligible men in the Caribbean for her to practice her charms on." Cora smiled, watching Deirdre sleep after her latest bath. Stephen put his arms around her waist and kissed the space where her neck met her shoulder; her skin was still warm from the steamy air of the bathroom.

"There's still water." He whispered, tilting her head to one side and kissing the pulse of his wife's neck.

Of course, there was more water on the floor than actually inside the bathtub by the time they were finished. Stephen marveled at the passion she raised in him when she slept later that night, oblivious to the bleating of the sheep in the courtyard below and the howls of the wolves seeking to hunt them. He'd considered himself above this most basic urge for many years, but there were times when he saw her and all he wanted was to hear her breath catch in her throat and watch her grey-blue eyes squeeze tight. There were times when he wanted nothing more than to see her smile. There were times when it haunted him that she might not feel the same.

There was one incident when he and Dominic went off into the mountains, intending to see about a lost sheep. They thought it no deviation from their mission to go tearing cross-country after a pair of wolves to study her without telling Cora where they'd be. They found her waiting in the kitchen two days later and discovered how wrong they'd been.

Dominic, with his innate child's sense of a mother's wrath, darted away as quickly as ever he could. Cora allowed him to go with a vicious glare, realizing that the real criminal was standing before her.

Stephen explained what had happened without a quiver of shame or fear. He had no reason to fear his own wife. She knew her way around a cutlass and a pistol, but not with the same degree of deadly skill that he did. He'd done what he wanted and she had no way of punishing him for it.

He finished by describing their final encounter with the wolves, when the two majestic creatures stood from the mountain pool they drank from and turned to face the two men with placid moony eyes, took one step closer to them, then heard the calls of their pack and darted away into the forest to disappear like silver ghosts. Even now he couldn't help but filled with a sense of wonder at the animals' understanding, the emotion in their eyes when they heard the call of their family, the way they understood and communicated everything so implicitly with each other. He knew Cora would understand his wonder. Instead the muscles in her jaw tightened, her hands went white-knuckled where they grasped her arms, and she walked away without a word.

He knew she couldn't go far; she didn't know the country very well, and she knew the language even less. But when he couldn't find her for two days he felt the dark knot of worry twisting in his stomach. If either of the children knew where she'd gone, they said nothing.  
Stephen returned late that night from the nearby village after caring for a sick child most of the day. He went wearily- but with a sense of satisfaction -to the room he'd dubbed his own study, where he kept his books and specimens he'd found. He sat down to take notes about the surgery before he ever noticed Cora was standing in the room.

When his heart stopped thundering, he managed to speak. "Is this where you've been hiding all this time, like a petulant child? Am I not allowed to leave on my own business without gaining your permission first? I am a man of science and you have no right to fault me for seeking to further humanity's knowledge."

She walked slowly to him and pushed back his chair until she could sit straddling his lap.

"A man of science you may call yourself, but you're still a man." She whispered in his ear. "You're my man, and I won't tolerate desertion. My whole damn ship would sink without you. I'd drown without you."

The last words were said so softly he barely managed to hear them. He drew back from her to meet her eyes, and saw that what he'd thought was anger was vulnerability- she was as desperate for him as he was for her. She wasn't angry that he hadn't told her where he was. She was afraid that he would leave and never come back.

"I won't leave you again." He whispered back, drawing her close again and feeling his body stir at her closeness. "I won't leave you again."

They whiled away that summer in Spain, largely oblivious to the world but for the occasional tidings of Bonaparte. They explored the lands that belonged to them, venturing only occasionally into the village. Dominic was soon as dark as the little Catalonian children, and speaking as rapidly as they did. Cora had to plead with him to speak English at home for fear that he lose the language entirely.

Stephen had to break his promise to Cora only once for reconnaissance, and when he returned a letter from Jack was waiting for them, inviting them to come and spend time with them in Ashgrove. He'd just caught another fine prize at sea- it was prodigious strange being at sea without you, Stephen -and intended to throw a large party for them once they arrived.

"Does Captain Aubrey live near Portsmouth, Papà?" Dominic asked him carefully while he was packing.

"Portsmouth is no great distance from his home, I should say. Is there a reason behind your question?"

"I'm almost eleven, Papà. I thought- perhaps- Momma said that- I wanted to join the Navy."

"Don't you wish to keep studying, Dominic?"

"I do, Papà, but... I have always wanted to sail too. Ever since I was young. Since I was born, Momma says."

"I will ask your mother." Stephen said after a pause.

Naturally Cora had no desire to let her son go, whether it was to study or to sail. But she reflected that she'd promised Dominic this, and relented.

Jack thought it was a capital idea, naturally, and spoke to every one of his old friends at the party to discover if any of those who were shipping out soon could spare room for a young midshipman. Heneage Dundas, as reliable as ever, was the one they released him to early that December.

"Be careful and mind what Captain Dundas says." Cora said, straightening his uniform for the last time. The cold air of the Portsmouth docks blew her dress everywhere, threatening to loosen her hair too. "And don't pick fights with the other midshipmen. You know more than they do, but don't flaunt it in front of them-"

"Yes, Mother." He said impatiently. He'd stopped calling her Momma the day after they first brought his uniform home.

"Good-bye, love. Come home safe."

"Adéu, Papà." He said when she released him at last.

"Adéu." Was all Stephen could say in reply.

Stephen too found himself hard-pressed not to worry about Dominic. There was only one day when he was not in the very forefront of his mind.

"A letter from Dominic has come," Jack bellowed down the hall. "Along with-"

Silence.

"Have you had your apoplexy at last, Jack?" Stephen called from their bedroom, where Cora had been reading _Romeo and Juliet_ aloud to him.

"There you are, Stephen." Jack tried to smile when he reached the door. "Dominic's letter came. And... there's another. For you."

Cora snatched Dominic's letter right away. He didn't miss them at all, naturally. He was fast friends with the other midshipmen of his berth, which was the starboard one- the larboard midshipmen were all flash coves and no good at all- lost their dinner the first night- the bosun was terrible, of course- the cook's food nothing like Gibbs'- but the whole of the letter was filled with his bounding enthusiasm and great love of the sea.

"We'll never get him home," Cora said ruefully, putting the letter down. "Who sent you that one?" She asked, one hand straying to touch Stephen's. He hadn't opened the other letter yet.

"An old colleague, whom I have not spoken with in years." Was all he said.

It was only half a lie. He hadn't spoken with Diana Villiers in years, and if she wasn't exactly a colleague he wasn't quite sure what else to call her.

Cora sensed his apprehension even if she didn't ask after its source. She touched him often that day, whether it was a brief caress of his hand or a kiss on the cheek when no one else noticed. That night she wouldn't let him slip into sleep unnoticed, sliding her hands down his chest and stomach and further, kissing him to stifle her own soft sounds.

He couldn't sleep at all anyway. He read Diana's letter by the candlelight, while Cora slept naked and unaware beside him.

He'd written only one letter to her since her proposal, shortly after Pullings' chaplain married he and Cora. He'd tried desperately to explain the emotions that led him to realize that they would never make the same journey, but they were too raw on paper- how could he explain that he knew Diana would always sink her claws into his heart, whether they were married or apart, whether she intended to or not? How could he explain that he could've continued to love her only in a world with no other alternative- no blue-eyed pirate? In the end he told her only that he, regrettably, could not accept her proposal. He didn't even move to renew their acquaintance. He told her nothing of Cora and Dominic.

She never responded to that letter, and Stephen hadn't expected her too. This one was just as brief as hers had been. It said only that she'd heard that he was once more in England, and that she'd like to see him again. She was staying in her old rooms at Mapes.

"I must go away for the day, joy," Stephen told Cora when she woke the next morning, kissing each of her eyelids when they slid down once more. "I will be back late tonight, perhaps tomorrow morning. I'm going to visit an old friend."

He found Diana beneath the false pagoda tree that once caused him so much pain. She was dressed to dazzle this time, in a gown of bright red, with a flower in her black hair and a black velvet shawl twined around her. She hadn't come on bended knee to ask him to take her back. She came to show him what he'd lost.

"I hardly expected you to come, Maturin, but I had to ask. I had to see what the married state has done to you."

"So you've heard?"

"Of course I've heard. You were quite the talk for a while. Is it true that you married that pirate?"

"Her name is Cora."

"I see. Even you could've done better than that, Maturin."

"I will go back to her straightaway if this is how you insist on treating me, Villiers."

Her face softened with sorrow, those dark blue eyes seeming a little less barbed now.

"Forgive me. I didn't think I had much pride left to be wounded until I received your letter. But perhaps it is just as well that you married- perhaps now I can ask if you'd like to take me into keeping." She managed a smile.

"No. You must stop giving yourself away to men, Villiers. You're worth more than that."

"Will you write to me again, Maturin? I've missed you awfully. Do write to me."

"We have never written to each other before, joy. It is better that we part now, and part as friends."

"I do hate good-byes."

"Never fear, dearest," He murmured as a wind shook the bare branches of the pagoda tree above them and stirred the hazy clouds in the sky. "No parting is forever."

He kissed her lightly on the mouth, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and drew back before she could pull him closer. He walked away before she could say good-bye. He relived the kiss several times in the chaise on his way back to Ashgrove. He wondered if Cora would taste a difference when she kissed him that night, and thought not. He didn't feel as if he'd betrayed her. He felt as if he'd finally sealed up that last aching sore on his heart, made himself whole for her once more. Someday down the road he could meet Diana again with no fear in his body, because he'd passed the pain she left in him onto her. Diana Villiers was his ghost no longer.

He came home and kissed Cora before he even had a chance to look in her eyes. He could smell the saltwater scent of sorrow before he drew back. She had her own letter in hand.

"Finn was in Ireland," She whispered. "And he raised too much hell for once. The British caught him and shot him down like a dog on the highway. Stephen, he's _dead_."

She hadn't seen him in two years.

"It is the natural order of things, joy," Stephen said as he held her. "Death is Life's oldest companion. Finn knew that would be his fate if he continued on the road of piracy. I can't imagine him going to it without a smile on his face."

It was not long after both their old loves had disappeared from their lives, after New Year's came and went, when Cora decided that it was time to return to Alameade.

"Everything would be so much easier if you would only come and live here in England." Jack pointed out when they were making ready to leave. Cora didn't react to his suggestion. She kept going as if he'd never said it at all.

"Jack was right, you know." Stephen said later, when they were on the pitching deck of the ship. "Everything _would_ be so much easier if we could simply find a place somewhere in England. We would be together much more that way, without the journey all the way to the Caribbean in the way."

"I'm not sure, Stephen. I don't know if I could ever let go of Alameade." She sighed restlessly. "The Caribbean is my home."

"But what is there for you anymore? Ashli is in America. Gibbs and Anamaria hardly ever make port near you. And the rest of your family has already been taken by the sea."

"They're buried there. I sent for tombstones for Uncle James and my mother. They're all there."

"Only think on it, joy. You would be so much less lonely. You could go and visit Sophie and the children when I was away. The two of you did get on well, I thought, and Deirdre certainly enjoyed the other children. Won't she be lonesome with Dom gone away?"

"Oh, I should think not. She'll have a new playmate soon enough."

"What do you mean?"

"I was seasick this morning. I've only ever been seasick one other time in my life."

The news didn't seem real at first; when Stephen unconsciously touched her stomach it was no rounder than before. But he saw her smile and knew that she couldn't be lying.

"I pray to God they don't take me away before the child is born." He uttered.

"I pray to God they do. I'm a royal terror when I'm pregnant, and you might get it in your head to divorce me if you saw it."

"I would never do such a thing. Have you forgotten that I'm a Papist? We are bound together in marriage, as long as we both shall live."

"A good condition, that. Who can really say how long that will be?"

He pretended those words didn't leave a vague chill in his bones.

That night, just before they drifted off to sleep, she whispered in his ear: "After the child is born. After the child is born you can think of England again."

What haunted him the most was that she had not said 'we.'

* * *

Stephen paused only for the briefest second at the top of the hill, his head tipped back and his eyes squeezed shut. His calves ached, already cramped from months at sea. But he had only a moment to rest, and then he walked around to the side of the house that faced the sea and sat down beside Cora. 

"Forgive me my panting, my dear," He wheezed. "But your grandfather could've chose a better place to build his house. The scenery is nonpareil, and should anyone ever wish to besiege us the view will be of immeasurable help, but otherwise I feel he was making everyone work too hard."

Cora said nothing.

The Caribbean sun was almost finished with its virile purple sunset. One by one the lights in the house behind them went on. A welcome sea breeze touched Stephen's face and he closed his eyes, wondering if he had the strength to move himself from Cora's side that night.

"The house seems so quiet without the children running about." He remarked to her. "I was going to bring Dominic but it's his watch right now- he's a fine midshipman, Jack says, and he expects him to pass for lieutenant with flying colors when his six years are up. Can you believe it's only one more year?

"He sends his love, of course. They both do, Jack in his own way. Dominic and I have been reading Macbeth together when time allows. Deirdre still doesn't quite appreciate Shakespeare, I find." Stephen sighed and leaned against Cora, who remained silent. "Their company is so constant in this place that even being up here makes me lonely for them."

They remained in comfortable silence together, watching the night deepen around them. It was a very similar night to the one of September 24, 1816. They'd just finished coming up the hill. Deirdre was asleep in Stephen's arms and Dominic was trying doggedly to keep up with them, insisting he didn't really need to cling to his mother's hand with the full force of a twelve year old midshipman's pride. After all, his ship was just down there in the harbor. Suppose one of the other midshipmen was to see him holding his mother's hand like a babe?

Cora had paused just once towards the top of the hill, her hand on her bulging stomach, and all her attention focused inward. Through the stretched fabric of her shirt Stephen could see the child moving, restless as a stormy sea. She looked to him after a moment, dropping Dominic's hand. Their eyes met, and they both knew.

"I'm sorry that it was the one thing you feared the most, joy. It was what I feared most too." Stephen whispered presently to his silent wife. He reached out to touch one of her warm curves, as familiar to him as the contours of his own body, although he had only known this particular set of curves for three years.

"Sorry to bother ye, sir," Gibbs shuffled up behind him. "But there's someone who's a-wanting to see you. The other young miss is dead asleep, but Aileen was waitin' up for ye."

Stephen turned with a smile to see a very sleepy young girl, about three years old, with brown hair and grey eyes. He looked deep into them as he accepted her from Gibbs and wished he could see a trace of blue, but they were his pale eyes through and through.

"Hello darling." He whispered, the way he and Cora always did at the sight of their children.

With a contented sigh, she buried her face in his neck and succumbed to sleep, not sparing a glance for her mother. Stephen cradled her against him and breathed in her clean scent, and wondered why it took him so long to appreciate his third child. He hadn't even touched her until she was two months old, when the laudanum finally ran out.

He held her until the stars appeared, and when he began to think it too cool he took her back inside to the bed she shared with her older sister to keep the nightmares at bay- the same bed Cora and Ashli Turner had once shared. He passed their room on the way, and lingered in the doorway for a minute before leaving it undisturbed. That was one room in the house on the hill where the memories were still banked too deep. No one had bothered to put fresh sheets on the bed since the old ones were removed three years before. Sheets wet with blood he'd been unable to stop, despite his years of experience and countless hours of training, despite every book he'd read and every seminar he'd attended, despite every good intention and every ounce of love.

Stephen went back outside, preparing himself to say goodbye. He sat down once more, this time in front of Cora, and hesitated before speaking again.

"I wish you were truly here beside me, Cora," He whispered. "I should like that of all things. But we both knew that we didn't have forever. I came here to keep my terms, because I know you never wanted a ghost for a husband. The truth of the matter is, I never wanted a ghost for a wife. But don't linger at the docks. Whatever sea it is you sail now, with whatever ship, I am not quite ready to board."

He traced the name on the headstone- _Coraline Jacqueline Maturin, January 15, 1780 - September 24, 1816_ -and kissed her only once. The headstone was still warm from hours in the sun, and he didn't want to linger to feel it cool. He preferred to remember it as warm. It was the way his wife's lips still felt when he bent to give her the final kiss, the one that stole her breath away for good.

His pilgrimage done, Stephen Maturin took a deep breath and began the long walk back down to the waiting shore.

_fin

* * *

_

A/N-- Well... there you have it. The end of this crazy story. This has been a blast and really a challenge for me to write, and I hope you ended up coming to love it as much as I do.

My heartfelt thanks to those that stayed with me:  
_FuchsiaII  
Oriana8  
silverwolf of the night  
Kelly Tolkien_

Without you guys, there is no story. There's just a lonely girl sitting at a computer banging away for lack of anything else constructive to do. I'd ship out with any of you time and time again!

Fair winds and following seas,  
Countess Verona Dracula


End file.
